My brain is mush. It is 2 AM and I have only had around three hours of sleep (I fell alseep finally at about 8 PM and woke up at 11 when my sister called, as she is working a double tonight) since yesterday afternoon.
Dealing with a mushy brain is difficult for a woman of my vast intelligence to endure. (I say “vast” tongue-in-cheek these days because the area of intelligence has been diminished by this infernal disease that refuses to vacate my body, irrespective of the numerous times I have invited it to do so.)
I used to be so pleased with the way my mind worked. Creativity flourished and my mind sped along at a deliciously speedy pace. Now, it plods along and I have to wait for it to catch up to the rest of me so that I can attempt to manipulate my admittedly limited sphere of influence into some sort of order and perceived design.
As I sit here staring blankly at this computer screen, as I have been doing for the last ten minutes, I am left wondering what in the world this post was supposed to be about. I had an excellent point and planned on delivering said point to you with flourish and a bit of flair…and I find myself wondering why in the world I am typing in the first place. (I suppose that I could take the “Make a List” route and write down the possible explanations for me starting this particular blog post. It would probably contain something about brain fog, but my mind is too foggy to figure that concept out. And even if I did write something down, chances are that I will forget that I wrote the list and where I put it. And if I did come across the list, I wouldn’t remember what to do with it once I found it.)
Perhaps my point is this: I miss the me that I used to be. However, the me that I am now is not half bad, when I think about it. Sure, I’m not as quick on the draw as I used to be. But I am also much more tolerant and forgiving than I used to be, and that’s a good thing. I am able to laugh more and shrug off things that would have driven me to frustrated fits in the past. I can let go of the reins of life, sit back in the saddle, and simply absorb all of the life pulsating and changing around me.
After that fabulous mind romp that my mind just took me on, I am finally able to ascertain why I wrote this blog in the first place. It was simply to express that my brain is being mushy and I don’t like it. What a revelation. Wow. Who said that mushy brains couldn’t occasionally come up with brilliance?