Words rule my life, as they do all our lives. We speak to one another, we text, we blog, write, Twitter, all of it. Whether misspelled, misshapen, misspoken, they are there, thrown, hurtled, and passed gently as whispers. They assail me everyday and yet I find that my personal dictionary is dried-up, my larynx closed, my frontal lobe quiet. We're talking parched Earth here, people.
In the past seven months, I've used my words as weapons. Yes, the keyboard is mightier than the sword. Words have been flung at me with the force of a machine gun and I've weathered the assault with biting, cutting verbiage of my own. Oh, yeah, I've driven down that road and left a dusty wake of nastiness behind me and here at the end, I find myself unable to utter a simple declarative sentence.
In the past four years, I've used my words to teach, correct, yell, tell stories, and soothe hurt feelings. My children constantly call for Mama, they jabber about their days and holler when wronged. They expect me to have the answers to all of their questions and I just don't have them right now. It's too much, to be responsible for teaching them everything. I'm wrung out. I don't have it in me to give out one more Say 'Excuse me!' when you burp. or Apologize to your sister. or I love you.
I speak only when spoken to. I don't respond to e-mails or comments. My answers are short and sweet and my questions stay unspoken. I just can't find the words to express how I'm feeling. I read, I absorb, I listen and watch, but my language centers have hit pause and I'm not quite sure how to get back to the beginning when the words flowed without a jumble.
I need quiet, rest, no one depending on me or any decisions I have to make. I dream of being still, of answering to no one. But all of that is impossible.
So I guess I'll just wait for the words to come.