Writing

It used to be an important part of my life. Once, what seems like years ago, I couldn't get through a day without writing something. Sometimes it'd just be a thought scribbled on the back of a napkin while at work and then fleshed out into something larger at another time. I still have some of those little napkin scribblings tucked inside the front cover of a notebook I used to keep nearby. They fall out sometimes and I hold them for a few minutes, read them, try and remember what it was that sparked that thought. But it's over now.

I'm as rusty as my grandfather's barbed-wire fence. Just like my mind, it no longer holds anything inside. The cattle have been shipped off to new homes and slaughter-houses.

And I say that it's because I don't have time anymore. That I don't write because of Jonas. But I don't know if that's really a reason, or an excuse.

Sure, having a kid does change a lot. And even when I do try to write, it seems to always come full-circle back to him. And if you think cheesy love poems are insufferable, try cheesy love poems about someone's kid. Ugh. No thanks.

So how does someone go about reclaiming what once was theirs? How do you go back to writing when you don't have an idea in your head?

And just for the record, that old phrase about using it or losing it... yeah, it's true. I've forgotten everything I might have once known about writing, including about half of my working vocabulary.

Mommy minds turn to mush. A scientific fact.