A mighty long dry spell.

It's been at least three months since I've written anything. Life (and my neighbor The Spider) just siphoned the creative forces from my being.

There is a minute or two each day (or usually at night when I'm lying in bed, fretting over things) where I feel a bit distraught about this. And then I have to talk myself off the ledge with reassurances that my writing mojo will come back, some day. And then the panic subsides. But the bitterness remains.

And, truthfully, I place most of the blame on The Spider.

I should take responsibility for my own weaknesses - but if you knew this woman, if you'd been so totally enveloped in her manipulations, her mind games, her PERSONA, and then escaped and finally gained perspective, you'd understand the scope of damage she inflicted. I mean, I'm on anti-depressants, for God's sake!

Now, whenever I hear her voice echoing from across the street as she speaks to her kids or husband and I experience flashbacks of random incidents, situations or comments from her and I shudder, my stomach lurching. Then I take a deep breath and exhale slowly, reminding myself that I'm free.

I've been fortunate that I've never experienced a toxic, harmful romantic relationship. But this experience with The Spider has got to be similar. I can now understand how a person who's deeply involved with someone like that cannot see how harmful it is when they are in the thick of it.

Months ago, The Spider complained to me, "Every time I make a new friend, they end up moving away." My God, now I know why!

It's been two and a half months since I last spoke with The Spider. I've tried to write. I even thought it would be therapeutic to write about her. But I can't seem to do it, yet. And it pisses me off.

I know it'll happen; I've had dry spells before. Just nothing like this. The fact that I am motivated to post on my blog gives me hope.