I seem to have lost my ability to sleep during the early hours of the morning. I have become nocturnal like our three cats. Poppy, Sammy and Jenny chase each other around the house at 1 am, while I lie awake thinking.
This morning I did more than think. I wrote 6 blog posts. In my head. The ideas came out of the dark, thick and fast. I got excited. These stories will wake up my blog, I thought. Maybe Uglemor will pop over and read them. Later today I'll get out my computer and write them all down.
All day I've been trying to write those stories. But I can't find the right words. The ones I keep choosing are wearing their lead shoes on the wrong feet. They keep falling flat on the ground.
I seem to have lost my ability to write.
I am reminded of the day I lost my ability to speak. That was at our son Thomas' wake. I knew what I wanted to say. My brain formed the words but my mouth refused to cooperate. Friends assured me it didn't matter. I didn't have to talk. But it did matter. It mattered a lot. I wanted to speak, tell people how I was feeling, but I couldn't.
Likewise, I want to write but I can't.
I hate writing. I just want to throw writing over the cliff and be rid of it. I want to give up the struggle. Be free. Get my life back. No more searching for the right words. There's only one problem.
I love writing.
Uglemor, I don't have a story after all. I'm sorry about that. How about some photos instead?
These were taken last Thursday on Imogen's birthday.
My six still-at-home children are looking over a cliff at a waterfall, which isn't very spectacular because of the lack of recent rain
And now I shall finish this not very spectacular post.