I’m struggling with what to write about next. In fact I’m struggling with being able to write at all. I’ve got a writer’s block.
Or rather, I did have one. It stopped the day I made a decision to write something every day, until something worthwhile emerges.
I’ve kick-started my imagination through an effort of will, the way being put on an insulin pump recently kick-started my pancreas.
As a type 1 diabetic, the pump has the potential to revolutionise my life. It will enable me to go swimming or running without the constant fear of hypos, which have plagued me for the past three years, ever since I was first diagnosed.
Before reaching that sublime state however, I have to learn how to use it. A couple of nights ago I had a series of hypos which lasted for hours. I’ve never had anything like them before. They probably happened because being on the pump somehow forced my dying pancreas to force out a few drops of insulin, before falling silent again.
Hopefully my imagination has a bit more life in it than my pancreas, although for a few weeks now, I have wondered.
Today though, I felt a shifting inside me: I had an idea. It’s small and fragile as a foetus and it may come to nothing. But what is significant, is that this time I haven’t rubbished or discarded it. I’m being kind and accepting its imperfections, letting it shift and turn below the surface of my mind as it takes shape.
I have made a decision. All I have to do is keep doing my writing practise and trust that sooner or later, something will come…