I miss everything creative.
Writing, the piano, and art. And cooking and making crafts. These are things I have longed for during childhood and fit in very sparingly whenever I had free time.
And now I have to accept that I can’t do these at all anymore, ever.
What a cruel fate for the musician that wakes up with deaf ears, the dancer with one less foot, or in this case, the writer with no hands?
Or rather, touch.
I can type and that is a blessing, but it’s just so overwhelming… Even stranger, I find it hard to write about my chronic illness. You would think for a writer, it would be effortless, but the words are simply too painful to write.
Why? It’s not only a long and painful story, but one that has no ending. That’s what disturbs me the most.
It all has to end someday, right? I repeat that question to myself everyday.
At least, that’s how it goes in a story. How can I write about mine when it’s not finished yet?
I’m extremely surprised at myself. Looking back on my life, I can truly say that material possessions and money meant nothing to me. I made the right choices, and I can smile weakly at them, even though they led me down this path.
I used to think that creating was the very essence of me, and that losing it would be absolutely impossible. To some extent that is true, but I miss something else the most of all.
I miss the ability to just call someone up and have free time. I miss the ability to give someone a hug. I miss sitting next to someone on the couch. I miss, oddly enough, taking care of people.
It was rooted in my creativity, and I guess that’s why I misunderstood myself. I liked to cook, because I could cook for people and take care of them when they were sick. I loved entertaining people with the stories I created on a whim and hear them laugh with excitement. I liked decorating because it gave others security and a homey atmosphere of warmth. Even though in the past I could barely do these things because of the circumstances, I was happy to do them a little bit, rather then nothing at all.
What I miss most of all… is love.