I woke up this morning and I was so tired I don’t know how I made it to the gym. I crawled out of bed and went there; I did my strength training, but when I got on the treadmill I was suddenly so tired I couldn’t do a thing. And so I have stayed.
I wonder where it’s coming from, this bone-deep exhaustion. I’ve been sleeping well, eating well and generally living well. My life is full: of people, places, food, energy, laughter, friends, variety.
But I’m tired.
I’m tired of how everything is so complicated. And no, please do not tell me we complicate our own lives, because I’m talking about complicated on a very basic level. There are steps 1,2,3, and you follow them, it is that simple. But when I do, I find it is, in fact, wildly complicated.
Working hard towards good goals is equally pointless, because they only seem to get fainter and farther away.
Taking care of myself, and other people, has become too much to deal with. I don’t want to think anymore. I’d like to regress a bit and be the irresponsible one. I want to have the meltdown, instead of wrapping it up tightly and locking it away to let it out in tiny bits once it’s calmed down. I want to be the receiver of plans and reaching out. I want to disappear for a week. Or a month. Run away to a little house in the mountains where all I have to do is read, sleep, stare into space and eat food that magically appears.
Instead of which I shall return to that word document that’s already running late.