This is the hell that’s wrong with me.
I have of late been unable to sustain idle chitchat. I’ve seen it in myself, in some otherworldly out-of-body experience, wherein I stare at myself from above and monitor my speech patterns and concentration and ability to feign interest in someone’s personal life or funny workplace anecdote. I float up there wondering why I’m not more interested, or interestING, or why I don’t step the hell up and shout, “That’s frickin’ SO awesome that you trained your puppy to wear a diaper! Way to go, you! Whoop! Whoop!”
Alas, I cannot.
It’s not that I’m depressed. I’m pretty happy most of the time.
It’s not that I don’t have contact with the outside world…there seem to be no shortage of people wanting to talk to, around, and with me.
It’s just that…I can’t. I can’t get the words to come out. I have somehow lost the ability to politely talk about nothing.
It may be a crisis of self-confidence.
It may be that my thyroid meds need changing.
It may be that the Lupron shot has finally worn off and the temporary menopause has drained me of my former chatty self.
It may be that work is kicking my lily-white heiney each and every day.
It may be that my children, who I love more than life, who I would kill or die for, take the air around me and fill it with stories and aches and problems and jokes and laughter and gut-wrenching sobs, so that my words can’t penetrate their low ground cloud.
It may be that I’m just tired. So, so tired. Spoiled from half a summer on medical leave, and now trying to eke 5 hours of quality sleep time from the dark hours.
It may be that my head is full of ToDos, ShouldDos, MustDos, and CanIDos.
It may be that I'm already thinking !Christmas!, and buying gifts and trying like hell to finally maybe make some gifts already.
I know fer sure that blogging is nearly impossible for me. Doesn’t help that I have to keep it secret, hiding it from the boss and from my co-workers, especially the one who sits in the cube across from me and can see everything I do and every site I go to. Doesn’t help that every night it’s the soccer practice and the dance lessons, and Do Your Homework, and packing lunches, and paying bills, and tallying up the endless school fundraising materials, and maybe I can read the paper and most times not, and maybe a little television while I make my ToDo list for the next day, and where the hell does blogging come in there?
It’s something I have to fight. I guess by just pushing through it. And here endeth another sermon from another blogger with Nothing Much To Say.
(Poetry Friday Word and such will return next week. Along with some giggling and fart jokes.)