If you know me at all, or even look at my profile picture, you know that I am not a spring chicken. I am, in fact, past the half century mark. And I have to say that in the last few months, I don't think it has ever been harder to focus on writing for the FaithWriter's Writing Challenge. It used to be that my stories flowed from my fingers...easy peasy. I only had to carve out an hour or two to get a good, and sometimes, even pretty good, story into Microsoft Word. But now...ugh.
There seems to be a foggy curtain that has been hung across the part of my brain that is inspired to write those lively and challenging stories. I try to pull the curtain back once in a while to get a glimpse of that pristine area of my brain that so easily whirled and clicked a few months ago. But even lifting the curtain is too much for me. My feeble brain cells are too weak to lift a veil that appears to be made of lead.
I think it is my age. I am at that point of no return for females where the body begins its inevitable morphing into the non-mother mode. That time of life when we "change". I remember as a girl hearing older women talk about "the change" and it seemed so wonderfully mysterious; like women were becoming another sort of exotic and wild species right before my eyes.
Well, I'm here to tell you that there is nothing mysterious or exotic about it at all! It is nothing but a body winding down and gears becoming loose and brain cells becoming very very lethargic. Activity is a foreign word. Exercise is as simple as getting off the couch and trudging to the bathroom. Oh, that hallway looks mighty long sometimes!
Just a couple of years ago, I was ecstatic that I was "changing". I felt good! I felt free! I felt like I had licked the Big M with one arm tied behind my back. But then, just when I was least expecting it, wham! The Big M showed me her muscles and I was whipped in one fell swoop. Pitiful.
I have heard that better days are coming....the fog WILL lift...the body will finish its morph...the woman will come forth whole and well. Gee, I sure hope so.
In the meantime, I stumble through the fog and attempt to peer through dimly lit veils. I want my brain back--without lists and post-it notes and calendars firmly attached. I want to write freely again, and more than that, I want to write with a frolicking spirit! Now that would be something--a bonus that I feel I'm owed after wading through this war zone of The Change. Stay tuned: I'll be sure to tell you when that happens. I'd better write that down, so I'll remember to let you know.