Submission Collision!

My mind is due to explode!

I write. I have written ever since I can remember. I may not be of much use vocally, but words are my passion.

SO, WHY IS IT THAT WHENEVER I AM ASKED TO WRITE, MY MIND CRAMPS?

For the first time in my life, I have been praised for my efforts and invited to write for a magazine. I can write as freely as I please, and as often as I wish, and suddenly, I cannot write a sentence. I feel like a huge thumb is pressing my forehead, restricting my creativity. My body is ecstatic, my brain is in meltdown, and yet, I sit here, scraping all I can gather in a pathetic attempt to break this restraint.

Perhaps, this is not me.

Perhaps, the topic is too truthful. Can I really write as freely as I wish? That means I would have to face matters that I am not ready to face.

Writing is a lonely past-time, and nobody is holding my hand.

That's the answer - Nobody is holding my hand, but I hold then pen! The pen needs my support!

Can I do that?

My pen has been my best friend since day 1. I can do that.

What if what I write is irrelevant? What if it does not satisfy what is required? What if it is ANOTHER pathetic attempt?

FAIL!

COME ON GEM! YOU CAN DO THIS!

So, I put pen to paper. My mind still wanders, and words fly carelessly around, lost and bewildered, and I am closer to breaking point.

I never did cope well under pressure. I combust! I feel the bubbles rise and the steam amount, and writing is now the last thing on my mind...

I NEED A BREAK!

Not such a great week

Ok, not the most happiest of first posts, but I need to vent.

I've not had the greatest of weeks to say the very least - I've not had the greatest of years to be truthfully honest. Ever heard of a Pneumothorax? Pfft, neither had I until exactly one year ago. I'm 26 years old, fit as a fiddle, and the one people turn to for help and support, but one year ago, after a week away on holiday with my son and fiance, I started getting a painful sensation in my chest. I assumed I had pulled a muscle, and despite the strain, I carried on a normal. Then one evening, the pain worsened, and I became short of breath. I waited for my better half to get home from work, and he whisked off to A&E.

It turned out that my lung had collapsed. HOW? My lung had torn and air had escaped. The escaped air was blocked inside my chest and had crushed my lung so badly, I was finding it difficult to breathe. I have a very vivid memory of the 'Plunge' that the Dr inserted into my chest to remove the air. Umpteen plunges later, I was sent to the hospital ward, given an oxygen mask and told I may be discharged the next morning.

WOW! I couldn't believe it!... ME???

Yes I smoke. Yes I drink. Yes I have experimented, but nowhere near as much as the next person. Why me at 26 years old?

Apparently, there's a medical term for it. SPONTANEOUS PNUEMORORAX.

This is a mystery as this usually affects tall, skinny men, such as basket ball players. Obviously, I'm female and although I am very thin, I am just 5ft tall.

It's been an agonising year. I've had ups and downs. Mostly downs - Not being able to play football with, wrestle with, and carry my ten year old son has hurt more than my chest, although, the pain goes away for a while.

But this week, the pain has come bad twice as bad as the day I was first admitted to hospital.

There is still air there that is 'supposed to' SOMEHOW disappear into my blood stream, but I have a terrible feeling that it has crushed my lung again. So for five whole days, I have been laid up on the settee, trying my hardest to recover.

I cannot fly on an aeroplane for three years, I cannot carry anything heavy, stretching hurts and the alternative is an operation to GLUE the tear in my lung =\

20 something chest Xrays in one year, God knows how many hospital visits and minus every friend I ever had, I'm beyond DOWN IN THE DUMPS!

What next?

Who knows...