There was a time my mind was overcome with images, bombarding me with flashes, details, storylines, annoying me with an overload of ideas. I was bothered, even angry that I had no relief. Now I sit here trying to remember the last time an idea floated in my head; I am a vacant open field of dead, dried grass. I do not even need to be mowed but simply swept with an old broom to wipe away my brown, brittle remnants. I crackle underfoot with no hint of green. I provide no nourishment; I am ready to be snowed upon and frozen.
caccy46 is a mother of two who's been married for 32 years.