OK, I have not quite known what to do about my writing, or exactly what happened. I think when I started considering writing a book, I froze. The best I can come up with is that writing stopped being fun – and making creative posters and developing a network on Facebook was much more immediately fulfilling.
No, it was more than that. I was lonely and I found a community of people who love and appreciate me and what I have to share. At 75 now, and living 20 miles outside of town, I otherwise live a pretty isolated life, other than my sweetie of 22 years and our dog. I have fibromyalgia, with low energy…
Perfect for writing, right? But I froze. I started caring what people thought of my writing and how many people would read it instead of what I needed to express. Also, I didn’t have energy to develop this blog and my FB pages too. I am stronger now than I was a year ago.
I used to write to express myself – so I knew what I was thinking. I’d like to do that again.
I have a lot of things to figure out. I am at a place where I am trying to understand my aging process, what it means to not have the energy to participate in many activities, what constitutes a meaningful life – or a meaningful day – how to deal with disappointment as my hearing deteriorates, my cognition isn’t what it once was…both memory and organization… processing my grief at loss of function.
I don’t know quite what to do with myself for my remaining years. I know, it’s good to stay in this NOW moment…at the same time I don’t want to waste the years I have left, however many they may be. The clock is ticking.