It pains me to come to the conclusion that the very activity that got me through a few tough years being sequestered in my home caring for my father, is now over. I keep telling myself that it is just an aberration and soon I will be able to write again. Well, I can still write, but the humor does not come any more. If I can't laugh as I write, then all of the fun has been drained away from the act of writing, which was why I wrote.
I think one of the worst parts is that I no longer want to read other blogs. I carefully chose blogs that made me laugh or at least break into a big smile. This is an important part about being a blogger. It builds the friendship that feeds the blogger. But, I don't even want to do that anymore. In fact, I don't want to do much of anything.
Self analyzing is probably a fool's mission, however, I believe that my problem lies in the fact that I have always been a caretaker. Always made my life be about some one else (husband, children, students, aunts, mother, father). I don't think that was a conscious choice, but something I was more than willing to do.
Perhaps, I have lost my identity and need to re-invent myself. But, at 71, I don't really know how to do that. And, it's not just this blog. I can't really see to relate to the world outside these doors. I have forced myself into several activities, but the key word , of course is F O R C E D (and one last time: Yes, I'm shouting).
Until I figure this out I am (again) forced to quit blogging. I say forced because my last scheduled blog posted last Monday and I can't seem to come up with anything for this coming Monday. So, good bye for now, dear friends. I love you all.
GO AHEAD, PLAY IT AS IT SEEMS AN APT ENDING. kt 8/11/12
(just wanted you to know I took a deep breath and paused before actually hitting "Publish.")
