I haven't written since January.
There's a reason for that. Not a good one, necessarily, but here it goes.
I essentially wrote for one person. And that person was not, at least after a time, myself.
I wrote for my second cousin, Thom, who encouraged me, laughed at my posts, and made me feel like I had some impact on people out there in the great beyond. His own blog posts were funny, poignant, insightful, and witty (not necessarily the same as funny, mind you). He was a wonderful and warm human being, and I hadn't seen him since I was about 15 years old, when he swung through Texas for some reason or another from the state of New York, where he was a professor of psychology.
Thom and I reconnected after a span of years when he joined Facebook and "friended" me. He was funny and conversational, with excellent jokes and commentaries on society, and I enjoyed getting to know him through an electronic medium that made him feel close by, despite the physical distance between us.
Thom sent me all the figurines from the Happy Meal's partnership with the Ice Age III movie to decorate my cubicle when I worked with Oldsmobile, Radio, Pacman, and Scooter (I'd received a couple because, um, I used to eat Happy Meals for lunch on the way back from the construction site). He sent me links to migraine research he'd dug up when I was so very, very ill in November and December of 2010, along with humorous Facebook posts that made me laugh (a difficult feat to accomplish, at the time).
And then, on February 9, 2014, Thom died suddenly. And I was completely and totally devastated.
As is the case when I am upset or experiencing great loss, I shut down whatever portions of my life dealt with that loss. In this case, my blogging went by the wayside.
Without Thom to read it, what was the point? For me, there wasn't one. Not for a very long time.
This wasn't a decision I consciously made, however. I just avoided StrainedConsciousness. I would think about writing, but then all the emotion I felt thinking that Thom wouldn't be around to read it would overwhelm me, and I'd decide not to.
A couple of months ago, my mom mentioned that I hadn't written in a very long time, and I softly told her that no, I hadn't written since Thom died. She teared up, and asked why, and I told her he wouldn't be around to read it. And I cried.
And then I realized that Thom would still want me to keep writing, even if he isn't around to comment on my posts. And I decided it was time to get back to it.
Part of the reason I've decided to get back to it is that, at present, I'm in another period of time where I'm unwell.
I'm back to daily migraines, again, albeit not ones as traumatic as those of 2010. They're still debilitating, though, and I'm currently on leave from work while my Wellness Doctor tries every trick up her sleeve to see what's wrong with me (my neurologist performed Botox, but he's stumped, otherwise).
My micronutrient assays are fine, for the most part, so it's not something there that's causing the issue.
My candidiasis is in control (woohoo!), so that's not the culprit.
But still, I'm chronically exhausted and have awful migraines.
By now, I have tears streaming down my face, and my migraine is hellacious, but I'm pressing through for a few more minutes before I take my drugs - I'm back to "snowing" myself, because acute migraine medicines aren't working.
And I need some sort of outlet. So I decided, at a point in the afternoon that my migraine wasn't raging (about an hour ago, honestly) to get back to blogging.
Not only for myself, but for Thom.