I wrote so much last week, I think the writing center in my brain is fried.
Not all of my writing appears on my blog, but between my regularly scheduled blog, a bonus blog, an op-ed, working on my memoir (here’s an earlier scene) and some pieces that I sent to online publications, I’ve been busy. And my brain is worn out.
I’ve worked on at least seven blog topics so far this week, but I can’t get any of them to gel. Here’s a few that I’ll have for you someday:
- How I’m not a car person. All sedans look alike to me. And all SUVs. But I’d know a VW bug anywhere. So there.
- When my boys were little and I played cars with them, going “Vroom, vroom,” wishing instead that I had a Barbie to dress up.
- All the names for butts. (Still in my queue because a subscriber asked for it after this blog. You know who you are, Jim!)
But there’s a blog topic that’s nagging at me and I know I’ll have to write about it soon:
It’s something I’m struggling with right now.
I’m struggling to accept that my chronic illness may be more chronic than I had hoped. Just in the last week, I’ve had a dawning realization that my life ahead may look very different than I envisioned. It may look much the same as it’s been over the past four years.
But acceptance of chronic illness is too big to write about when my skills are temporarily depleted. I’ll need some time to wrap my used-up brain around it. I’ll have to figure out what I can accept and what I will still fight like hell for. I promise when I get a handle on it, I’ll blog about it.
In the meantime, I’ll keep trying to put some Vroom, vroom under my butt and other stories and get you a blog you can enjoy.
I hope you can accept that.