I still haven’t been writing.
Last week, on their way to the post-concussion-you-can-go-back-to-school follow up with the pediatrician, my daughter crashed the car. She hydroplaned and hit a guard rail. Thankfully, they were fine. (The car, not so much.) And me? Well, I’ve been a wreck.
Oddly, I didn’t turn to writing to help process it. (I turned to sugar to avoid processing it. That’s a different problem.) In the past, my notebooks have been my best friends. I’ve used writing to express and explore all those messy feelings that swirl around when life gets crazy.
Not this time.
No journalling, no poems, no blog posts. No words. I’m out of words for all of it. I don’t want to explore how I feel about life right now. I don’t want to think too deeply about anything at all.
In other news, today is the sixth anniversary of my mother’s death. So there’s that.
At some point, this dam is going to break, isn’t it? All of these feelings will rush out at once, maybe as poems, maybe not. I think I’m more afraid that it won’t. The dam will hold, and I’ll stay like this forever, numb to everything, with no words. No more words. Just waiting for the next accident, and the next.
A total wreck.