Oh Mirriam, we are so tired of you talking about your writer’s block. It’s so boring – enough already. Can you not move on and, you know, bitch about the government or the death penalty or how poorly people are raising their children? ¬†Well, sure I feel like someday soon I will be able to do that but let me tell you some things you might not know.

When you are used to always having words, not having them is one of the most traumatizing things you can go through. I sit up at night thinking about where these words that used to come so free and easy, where did they go? Did they just give up on me and decide I was unworthy. Because, you see, my words are my lifeline to myself. I have been told that I don’t talk like everyone else, and this is true. Most of the time I really don’t know what people mean when they say things because I think, more often than not, people say things just to say things and don’t think about what they mean. Talking because that’s what people do.

I am not much for small talk. But I can get you to tell me your deepest darkest secrets without much fanfare. Why? Because I have words. They are my shield and my sword. And losing them has been the loss of such a sacred part of me. So I have to write about it because it’s when I write about it that the words are coming back.

I’ve been in therapy for a while trying to figure a lot of stuff out, primarily so I can be sure that my kids will have to spend less time in therapy. I see a Jungian, which is really far out. We talk about my dreams and I have to tell you I have given up on dream interpretation because holy shit I am so far off the mark most of the time. But here’s the crazy thing- your dreams really are talking to you. I had a dream the other night about my Yonas (who has just started kindergarten, by the way) he was dead in my dream. I was in a public bathroom and he was lying there, lifeless. I picked up the towel I had him wrapped in and I was crying hysterically, begging him to wake up for just one more hug, one more kiss. I woke up in tears.

When I was asked what Yonas was doing, what’s he like I said “He has words, amazing incredible words. He can express himself like no other 5 year old I know. He told me the other day that when I use my loud voice it is my stern voice. He can tell me how he feels and what he is afraid of or what makes him happy. He understands the poetry we read and he loves it.”

She looked at me and said, when was the last time you wrote some words?

I cannot describe how painful this writer’s block has been. It is a mental illness like depression or, I don’t know, name some other illness. And, in order to overcome it I must learn to use my words. Whatever they might be. Today, they are about the pain of losing my words. I don’t wish it upon any of my blogging brothers or sisters. I miss the days of gentle name calling and the back and forth. I miss being able to sit down and say I think X and having it flow from my fingertips onto this page. And the thing is I still feel all of the things I’ve always felt, I just physically and mentally have not been able to share them with you. So, I am using my stern voice with myself and with all of you. Please bear with me while I get my sea legs back.