Writing Again

I am trying to learn how to write again.

It's kind of funny as writing has gotten me through everything in my life and is, actually, my best friend.

I think we all have these gifts inside of us. I have very little in the way of talent except for writing. I am smart, mind you, but talent? No...I don't have a lot of that. I can write. That's all I have to give.

So losing the ability to write two weeks ago was paralyzing.

It left around the same time my self-confidence came back. Odd, no?

I stopped having panic attacks, stopped thinking that THIS was the end of the world, and then, suddenly, I couldn't write anymore.

"I'm fucked," I told Chas. "I wish I could tell you, after all you have done for me, that I will be your meal ticket or your salvation as you have been mine...but I just can't tell you that...I can't write anymore..."

Chas is nothing if not blunt and humorous.

"Is anything else broken?" he asked.

"No, I don't think so...I just wanted to tell you that, that, that..." I stammered.

Chas has the amazing gift of knowing when to ignore me.

"That what?" he said, eventually.

"I am a mess,"I told him.

"Yeah, who isn't?" he responded, then went back to the Olympics.

Philly is definitely about tough love. No doubt about it.

I told him I couldn't write yesterday, after nearly two weeks of trying.

He was putting together the shelves we had agreed on at Home Depot and was well into his work.

He put down his hammer and his screwdriver and came and sat down next to me on the couch.

"You feeling sorry for yourself?" he asked.

I was.

"I just don't understand...I just don't know why...I was so good at what I did...how could this happen? What happened? Why did this happen to me? Why...well, forget it..." I stammered.

"I am going to go to bed early and you are going to write tonight. That's it. Write something stupid. Just write again. This is where people get stuck...you can't get stuck."

Dear God, I wish it was that easy. I wish I didn't have panic attacks, I wish I didn't have days on end of being happy only to gripped by one or two hours of complete fear that erases the happiness. I wish I could look around and not care...but I just can't.

I wish I could appreciate what Chas says but I cannot, most days.

I wish I could take the fact that I am overwhelmingly in love with this half Syrian and half Irish male who takes me in his arms every night and fights both of our battles for us. But there is some part of me that won't.

Maybe I will find the solution...

Hope so.

But I wrote it down. That's a start, no?