I have lost my mojo, my need to write, my voice, my desire to exercise, my oomph to better myself, my sass to flirt and open myself up to something wonderful with a man. I don't want to read, or write, or watch TV, or hang out with friends, or grab a coffee or beer and people watch. I love these things. Yet all I want to do is sleep.
I have lost me.
I know the signs. I know what to do, and I did it today. I know it will help, but I can't get past all the negativity floating around in my life right now. I can't get away from my negative bank account, or my past due bills, or the things I need to buy for my girl (who starts 1st grade next week, oh.my.wow.), or the sadness that old friends have fallen off the radar, or the bullshit with the ex, or my loneliness. I can't hide from my anger or my bitterness, that spills over at the most uncomfortable times.
Oh, but I try. I push down the anger and bitterness, and send it back to the deep recesses of my gut. When my melancholy and 'What could have been' get out of control, I turn my back on it.
My loneliness? It never leaves. It strangles and hangs on my body, like an extra limb I didn't know I had, and will probably never grow comfortable with.
All day I work at being positive and hopeful and joyful. And it works. For everyone else. And I will say that a bit of that hope is alive within me; it won't ever leave. As long as I have my girl, I will have hope.
But this act? This gig? It is exhausting.
So I sleep: Instead of walking the dog and exercising, I curl up in a ball and cuddle with my girl, breathing in the scent of her gorgeous hair, until she drifts off. Then I match her breathing, and drift off on my own, where I'm at the mercy of my dreams.
And my dreams? They are cruel and merciless and breathtaking and satisfying and telling. My mind and heart are battling, yet I can't figure out if they are battling one another or battling something else as a team.
I don't wake feeling rested. I wake up out of breath, with heartache the size of so many broken things.
So I pray.
Yet, I have lost my ability to pray. I am down to two simple, yet powerful words:
I am waiting for them to work.