Ideas that used to swirl in my head at all hours have been held hostage.
Motivation that used to get me out of bed at 6.00 a.m. to go to the gym has gone on vacation.
My mind feels empty.
My heart feels numb.
My legs feel heavy.
Not sad. Not happy. Not anything.
The need to write hangs around like a ghost that needs to be exorcised.
Words, words, words.
This editorial calendar on the blog has empty squares.
The need to fill them bugs me like fingernail scratches on a chalkboard.
Checking off my daily to-do list fills my need for some order.
It adds to my inertia, for no discernible reason.
I wake up, I shower, I change into clean clothes.
I make sure my children get baths, wear clean clothes, get fed at regular hours, take their naps, go to bed at night.
I do laundry, tidy the house, clean what needs to be cleaned, cook dinner.
Yet, I feel like I did nothing.
Update: After writing this, I wrote four posts. FOUR! I guess writing about not being able to write does help. Especially since I don’t drink or wear lipstick.