What do you mean you’re tired? That bone crushing exhaustion that keeps you dragging and lagging throughout the day. That weariness in spirit that has you fighting for air. That unrelenting plague that settles on you and will not be shaken off. No burst of energy.
Numb. Like my feelings are cut off at the nerve. I can’t feel the pressure of a gentle squeeze. I can’t talk about my feelings. They are cold strangers that I’d rather ignore.
Indifference. I should be excited. To see friends. To travel. To have new adventures. but it feels dull. Like a room full of khaki that I’m painting beige. Nothing stirring, gripping, capturing. Just mundane. Even my good things don’t feel good. They just feel blah.
And so I sit and write with the cat curled up next to me on a clean neatly folded t-shirt. And the soup sits in my belly refusing to digest. And my eyelids feel like there are weights attached to them. And I’m disgusted by my inability to do something.
Well, I did help Samuel with his poster for an hour so I guess that is something. Science experiment done. And I did do the dishes and laundry today. And folded 3 large baskets of clean clothes. And swept. And baked home-made gluten-free chocolate chip cookies. And grocery shopped. And got the boys haircuts. And Allie’s gift bought and wrapped and given. And took the boys to soccer practice.
What hell has this year been. 2018. Thank goodness you’re coming to a close. Bombs exploding around me this year. Mostly internal. Shrapnel has got me. Knocked me off my feet. Dragging myself through the months. Bitter pain of sweet things turning sour.
Trying to not give up when all feels lost. I feel like I’m in a small boat in the middle of the ocean. Which way is land? All I see is sea.
I’m in a desert and desperate for water. Parched. Is there an oasis or merely a mirage?
The light shines brightly above, it makes my eyes sting and water.
When you’re feet below the water and you can’t tell which way is the surface. Which way is forward? Which way is up?
And so I sit in the muck and mire. I sit in the silence. I don’t cry. There are no tears. I’m too dry.
It feels like when Libby died. This grief of mine. This going through the motions. This breathing in and out and time passing and I feel stuck. Glued to my seat. Unable to get up if I wanted to. The world rushing off without me and I’m still here waiting, desperately trying to catch up.
I would like to sink into my bed and not get out. Just lay there and be still… for a long time. Darkness has fallen. Night has come. I’m tired.
Picture day is tomorrow for my elementary aged kids and Samuel has an audiology appointment. And I’m missing my bible study.
I envy the cat. The steady rise and fall of her body as she sleeps. The peace and contentment.
More Homework help awaits. Sigh.
To write again another time.