I miss writing.
Because of the brain fog and fatigue I’ve had over the last couple of years as a result of my extra-stetchy connective tissue from my hEDS, I can’t spend as much time writing as I would like.
Some kinds of writing, like poetry, have become almost non-existent in my life. I feel like the creative side of my brain isn’t operational the vast majority of the time – and the more analytic side is only at half-capacity, at best. Heck, I have difficulty reading literature of any kind these days. I can sometimes manage to grasp poems, if it’s in the morning and they aren’t too long. I can’t read novels because I can’t get plots and characters to stick in my head over days. I can’t even manage non-fiction books because the brain fog is too thick to remember topics over the course of days and the fatigue level is such that I can’t read very long at a sitting. I’ve been trying to keep up by reading news and commentary articles and newsletters but have been so tired lately that my inbox is overflowing with unread material.
There has been so much happening here in the US that I’ve wanted to write posts about but haven’t been able to manage, which makes me sad. I keep thinking that the next specialist visit will give us something actionable to improve my condition but, instead, it usually means more tests are needed, which means waiting for the tests to be scheduled, doing them, waiting for them to be interpreted, waiting for the specialist to see the results and interpret them – which often yields a different result than the radiology reports that land in my health portal – and get back to me with what they think is going on. Then, maybe, we get to trying a treatment that may or may not work and then onto the next option or the next specialist.
I’m grateful, though, that this year I have a specialist who was finally able to diagnose my hEDS and cerebellar ectopia and that I finally have specialists who know what to try with patients like me. Unfortunately, I might need some pretty scary treatments, like brain surgery.
So, I’m grateful and scared and exhausted and anxious and tired of all the waiting and struggling and symptoms and uncertainty.
And I miss writing and being able to make it through a day without having to spend a good chunk of it lying down and being able to take walks without having someone with me in case I lose my ability to keep my balance and going to visit family and friends and being able to concentrate and speaking without having to search for the right word in some kind of frantic brain race.
I miss the life of the mind that I took for granted as part of my identity.
And here you have an illustration of why stream of consciousness writing is so dangerous to put out there, because this is a way darker post than I thought I was going to be writing when I started out with Linda’s prompt of the word miss and decided to write about missing writing.
It is, though, on brand with Top to JC’s Mind where I usually write honestly about whatever is top of mind for me, even when that mind is more scattered and glitchy and exhausted than it used to be.
There are two big imaging studies coming up for me this week and a hugely important appointment with a specialized neurosurgeon at the end of July. Meanwhile, I’m hoping against hope to get a few significant posts written here, as opposed to the last month which has not been very substantive.
Sigh.
I miss writing.
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Join us for Linda’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday! Find out more here: https://lindaghill.com/2026/06/19/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-june-20-2026/
Joanne Corey 