Again I'm blogging about not blogging. Yeah, I've written a few things recently in response to stuff that irritates me, but I don't feel connected to my writing in the way I have in the past. And when I sit down and reflect on what I really want to write about, I feel anxious and upset.
Well, as I always say, diagnosis is my life. So when did this start? I go back and look at my lists of posts and I see that it started around Memorial Day weekend, when we went to visit my mother. I had some ideas and drafts for posts before we left and I haven't been able to write about any of them since.
What happened Memorial Day weekend? I saw my cousins for the first time since my father's funeral; I ate dinner sitting in my father's chair at the table; I sorted through the medical books my mother wants to get rid of.
So I think I need to write about my father. I don't know how long this will take, and I don't know where I will end up when it's done. I don't really want to do it, but if I don't it will block everything else. Bear with me, and I'll figure it out.