Am I A Writer?

I always have been.

But recently, I find it more and more difficult to do the actual physical act of writing. Holding a pen can cause cramping, typing causes a different pain, but neither is that bad. Five years ago, those little aches and pains wouldn't have stopped me. Three years ago, there would have been no problem with the problems.
Some days just sitting at the desk is fatiguing.

I haven't blogged.
I haven't written letters. (Something I love to do; always have, always will. Or so I once thought.)
Signing Christmas cards and addressing envelopes fatigued me beyond reason.

But I write in my mind at all times.
I reword and rework the structure of sentences I am considering writing.
I reorganize the order of paragraphs in planned blog entries for maximum (or minimal) impact.
I choose words that describe specifically.
Active verbs, and passive exposition for effect.

It's just so hard to sit and do the actual work!

Have I gotten lazy?
Do I just not care?
Am I more ill (weak, tired, senile, dying) than I know?

I have always dealt with the grievances and annoyances and, yes, the joys, of an overwhelming life by putting it into words. By putting it into words and sharing those words with my world at large.

The words are still there, and most of my mental energy goes into the composition and selection of the words, but it seems, somehow, to stop there. The words are in my head, and occasionally they will come out my mouth. (Not often)
But that is as far as it goes.

So can I still call myself a writer? Even though I do not actually write?

I have become a composer of unsung, unshared thoughts, feelings, ideas, and ideals.

No longer a mother to children.
No longer a wife.
No longer an eager energetic all-hours employee.
No longer a writer?

What and who then am I, and how do I find myself again, with all my identities in shreds?

Sandals hurt

Last summer, there was article after article about how wearing sandals hurt your feet, or are bad for your feet. (Yes, just like they keep saying about high heels.) The articles had a lot of bullcrap explanations for why this is so.

Yes, bullcrap. Sandals are not bad for our feet because they lack support -- we were created to walk barefoot upon the earth. Where's there support in bare feet? Sandals are not causing back injury because they make us walk without support. Support for walking is usually a cane or a crutch, although more and more injuries are requiring a 'walking boot' device. (Which might not be needed so often if the patients had ever walked barefoot and let their muscles support them.)

Not one article even suggested what I think is the true cause of sandals causing problems. Not one.

It is the way the sandals are made. No, I take that back. It is the material used in making them. That awful rubber stuff. I don't know what it is, or how it's made. Sometimes it looks to have been rolled out in sheets and cut off to conform to the feet-shapes. Other times it looks extruded or injected between layers of materials.

I don't know if this rubber-stuff is used to make materials last longer, or of there's a delusion of support, or exactly why it's being used. In every pair of sandals designed or created for the last several years.

What I do know is that when I wear sandals with this material, it hurts me. Walking on this bouncy stuff throws my back out, splays my hips (that's how it feels), ties my thighs in knots, and cramps my calves. And that's before I get to the car!

Every time.
Every pair.

The sad thing is, I can't find any sandals that do NOT have this filling. Occasionally I'll run across a pair of huaraches that are made of natural materials, but they are usually beyond my budget.

Let's not blame the sandals for our pain. We could blame ourselves, I suppose, but the real blame belongs to the makers. And to doctors who want to blame us instead of doing what it takes to find the real cause.

Let's walk away from summer sandal pain.