Some days writing flows out of my fingertips like water from a tap. My hands can hardly keep up with my head. Other days I struggle to figure out exactly what it is I am trying to say. The words don't come easily, the thoughts aren't coherent. I just write nonsense.
I think today is a bit of a nonsense day. But I'm going to write anyway.
When Shane is away I sleep on his side of the bed. It's weird, and I have no idea why, but it's just what comes naturally. I wish he was home. I'm sick of being a swollen pregnant lady. I don't know what I expect him to do. But having him around is just better.
I want to do so much at the moment. I want to move. I want to put up my Christmas decorations. But the box is in the garage and I don't think I should lift it. I've never realised how hard it is to not be able to do things. My body and I have always been pretty good friends. Sure, I don't take care of it as well as I should, but for the most part, it does what I ask it to. It's very frustrating to look at my dishes, or my floor, to see that the dog needs a bath.... to want to do. But not be able to. Or if I do, I have to weigh up exactly how much energy a task will take versus how much energy I have.
It's frustrating to look at my hands and have them feel so tight and... not mine. I took my wedding ring off a couple of days ago because I was worried it was getting too tight. Now I feel naked. I hate that I have sausage fingers, I hate that my feet look so unnatural. I hate that my shoes don't fit.
I get cranky at myself because I'm dwelling on the bad. When really, where is the bad? I have a happy healthy baby growing in my belly. I have a cheeky, beautiful toddler asleep in her bed. I am safe, well fed and loved. What am I complaining about?
It's raining, and somehow that always makes everything feel nice and cozy inside. Like you want to drink hot chocolate and curl up with a good book. I need to find some good books at the moment.
Pins and needles, prickling through my feet.
I wish I could write and make people feel I feel when I listen to music. I wish writing could sound sometimes. I love the way music just hits you. There can be words that are so poignant and meaningful, but you give them a tune? And they are amplified. It's the difference between hearing staticky radio and an amazing live concert.
I have no idea what it is I am writing here. No idea what I am trying to say. Maybe I'm not saying anything? Just a random collection of thoughts spilling out haphazardly. Blame it on the fact that my husband is away and my words are getting trapped. I'm not even going to proof this or fix it tonight. Just hit 'publish' and send this collection of thoughts out.