self

i really don't know how to deal with this. on the one hand: i feel like it's actually happening--that i've lost my ability to write. it's forced me to become incredibly self-conscious--incredibly self-critical. i can hardly muster even two words before thinking: is this how i would have phrased this before?
on the other hand: i know this is ridiculous. i haven't lost my ability to write. i'm writing now. i've written things since the incident. of course: they've come out somewhat muddled, but that's not because i've lost "it." it's because i've started to consciously examine what it was that defined me as a "writer"--and that's death in any artistic endeavor. the butterfly attempts to understand why it flies, how it flies, dissects the mechanics of what comes naturally to all butterflies: flight--it doesn't lose the ability to fly. but it's no longer natural. it flutters around awkwardly, attempting a false imitation of itself. this is essentially my dilemma. when things like this occur: i forget, i forfeit (unwillingly) all the progress i've made in defining myself--the process is no longer natural. i start to believe i was smarter, more able, more clever at whatever it is and so i aim to match this distorted self-image. and i know it's distorted. so why can't i simply tell myself this--convince myself that nothing's changed; that i'm worrying over nothing; that it's my own anxieties that are causing me to delude myself?
my worst fear is losing the ability to express myself. without this ability: i have no reason to live. my mind seems hellbent on destroying this for me. of eradicating all that is essentially me: all that i self-identify with. why? why is it that if you fear something, it inevitably happens--like being conscious of it makes it real?