I use to think that no matter what, the characters that lived in my head were permanent residents. I mean, I never questioned where exactly they came from or why they chose my head as a place to make their home, I just trusted that they’d always be there. Sometimes loud and insistent, sometimes quietly waiting a turn, but there all the same.
But, now they are gone.
My head is empty. I guess it’s not completely empty, there are vague thoughts and half formed ideas. I can add and multiply and I probably even spelled most of these words right without using my spell check. So, I guess I’m about as useful as a computer from the late eighties. (Hopefully at least a Mac, or maybe one that can play Number Cruncher and Where in the World is Carmen SanDiego.)
This seems to be a result of the supplement that I’m taking to try to remind my body that making hormones is actually one of the things it needs to do. (Not that the continued lack of sleep and busy school year isn’t contributing.) I don’t know if what I’m taking is helping my body in the hormone department, but it has definitely stolen all of my stories and ideas.
It isn’t that there aren’t things to write about, there was an election here in Manitoba (although writing about that might just be too painful), then there’s also a federal election (which is still pretty painful, do you choose the pretty Hollywood boy who apologizes for being racist, or the right wing nutjob who won’t apologize for being homophobic or marginalizing women’s rights).
There’s also Orange shirt day, climate strike and indoor recess. All things I should have lots to
say about, but I don’t.
Writing right now feels like trying to pull the few words I can find out through a metal sieve. Even when I can get the words back together, the thoughts are choppy, disconnected and broken.
In the last two years of not sleeping, there are many times that it has been hard to write, but it was more like the words were all banging around inside my head refusing to come out nicely and sit together quietly on the page. This week is different, this week there are just no words.
I know this isn’t much of a blog, but I have squeezed together the few scant thoughts that I could find to let you know that I haven’t forgotten you.
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