It's gone

I have been cleaning my desk today. All over I am finding story/blog ideas I have jotted down.

In the past, all I needed was a "book mark" to jog my mind.

Now they are undecipherable cryptic notes.

That makes me sad.

I don't know if its the physical illness or the natural menopausal crap, or my brain has developed some sort of dementia, but its gone.... my ability to be a writer.

I look at the drafts in my blog folder, and I can see the ghost of the former me trying in vain to reach that level I once had.

I re-read over old stuff and …..fuuuuuuck man, where the hell did she go?

This revolting development isn't sitting well with me.

once my body was all used up and I couldn't work any more....I hoped to find a way to support my self via my writing. (yes I know that is a complete delusion...but one that keeps me from freaking out about becoming so disabled, and useless.)

So who am I?

all those labels of the past have been slowly stripped off by time and disability.

I was a runner, figure skater, rider, flyer, I was a untamable horse that everyone chased but never could catch.

I was a wife and a mother who gave 100% to her family.

Now I am the weak link, who is on the verge of becoming a burden...of not being able to pull my weight.

I don't like the new labels that are creeping in.

I am a financial burden, disabled physical train wreck of a depressed soul.

Once who can't sing for her supper.

One who's purpose is gone.

This is a lot like high wire walking over a huge crevasse...but the wire appears only a second before your foot comes down. I don't know which step will send me plummeting to earth.

Each and every step I take feels like my last.