Where Did My Mojo Go?

CinderYella meets her Fella

The tumult of the last six months has subsided and in many ways my life has returned to "normal" (which for someone with fibro means dealing with aches and pains, flagging energy and brain fog, but that's been my new normal for a long time now). The fibro flare-ups and hot flashes have cooled off; the extreme sleep disturbances have calmed down and the depression and anxiety have abated. However, other parts of my life have not returned to normal. The creative fire has been dampened and refuses to reignite. Characters from my books used to speak to me, insisting that I put their words on paper. Stories came to me in my dreams and I was compelled to write them down upon awakening. Landscapes unrolled before me, calling me to capture them with my watercolors. Now it's all gone - no speaking, no calling, no creative compulsion. I suppose I should be grateful for the respite. The creative life can be as frustrating and depressing as it is fulfilling and inspiring.

There have been times in my life when my libido completely dried up. I could remember that I used to enjoy sex, but I could have cared less if I ever had it again. That's exactly how I feel now about my creative drive. I know I used to gain tremendous enjoyment from it, but now it doesn't matter if I ever write another story or pick up another paint brush. I just know that isn't "normal" for me. Eventually my libido bounced back and I can only hope the same will be true of my creative mojo. I've been thinking that I should get back into The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron. It really got the creative fires burning a few years back. But I can't even get up enough motivation to do that!

Sigh...if time heals all wounds, then I guess I need more time to heal all of mine.