Say what I am unable to say

Tornados of snow whipped across the property this afternoon, partially filling our snowshoe trail. I had planned to go out for a tramp, but when I left the writing group at noon, even the short walk to the truck had my cheeks flaming red, and my nose cold. Minus 30 with the wind chill - no freaking way was I venturing out!

The warm-up at writing group today was "what small upgrade to your life made a big difference". I had some time to think and jumped upon and dismissed many ideas, until I thought of this blog. When I started writing 4 years ago I had to struggle to get even a few paragraphs written - I was never a natural writer and getting out a daily post was work. As the months wore on writing started to become easier (although I still work hard at it), but what is more, I started loving it. I wanted to write, no, I had to write. I loved being able to express myself. It was therapy for me.

Being bipolar comes with more than the obvious set of challenges, and the medications compound them. The challenge that I have struggled with the most is the decline in my cognitive abilities. I'm much better than I was 10 years ago, but I do still struggle at times. The most frustrating difficulty is being able to express myself in conversation. I lose words and my thoughts trail off and I get lost. Writing gives me the time to get back on track and I can take the time to remember the word I was looking for, or rearrange the sentence to better convey my thought. Being able to write is like a bird getting wings. It is freedom.

It hardly seems possible that Spike turned 7 today, it seems like it was just last month that he was a furry little bundle. But enough from me, Spike wants to have his say today.

~

Hi, it's me, Spike, I told Laura that I wanted to write to you today. It is my 7th birthday, and I thought she might forget to tell you. I wish my birthday was in the summer so that we could be camping and have a big party for me, instead it is too cold to play outside for more than a few minutes. There won't be a party, but I'm going to get a big bone, and some chunks of meat. Laura said she took some special pieces out of the freezer. Laura always drinks champagne on her birthday, so I thought I might like some myself, but she said no, it wasn't for dogs. Some birthday.

Laura told me that 7 years is like 49 people years - I don't believe her because that would make me almost as old as her! I sure don't feel THAT old. I can still run and run (I love running as fast as I can), and I could still fight that dog that goes by with the bike everyday. I think Laura might have done the math wrong (she does that sometimes).

Well, I better go check to make sure all my toys are there. I wonder if I should make room in my toy box for a new one?
Spike

~ 

A word after a word after a word is power. ~Margaret Atwood

The role of a writer is not to say what we can all say, but what we are unable to say. ~Anaïs Nin