bleak house -- i mean me
Tuesday, April 9, 2013 at 09:14AM This will be a post without a photo because I can't think of how possibly to ornament the words I'm about to say. All of the pictures I take are sparkly, beautiful shots of what's happening in the dazzling world around me. Right now I'm not feeling so dazzling. I just feel bleak. I just feel tired.
It's a super-big pain in the ass to feel this hopeless.
But it's the truth.
Look, I don't know what it is. The words "adrenal fatigue" have been floating through my porous mind for three days. I do know that there's a part of me that's furious: furious about stress, about money, about no longer having the blessed peace of the morning to myself. That's the biggest part of it for me. For three months, there has been absolutely no possibility of having that sacred 4:30 - 5:30 time to myself, and it's been twisting me, nagging me, driving me nuts.
Waking up angry is just no way to be.
I can't shake it. I want to. I want to feel like I used to feel, even just three months ago, but it's beyond my grasp. I'm so tired and I just want my life back. I'm terrible company. I'm a harridan.
I rage and wait for things to settle, for everyone else to stop their bullshit so I can have things the way I need them to be -- an hour of solitude and quiet in the morning, hands on the keyboard, no interruption.
But I'm so tired. I don't know how long I can keep doing this, keep waking up and feeling instantly bothered, smothered, hemmed in. Trapped. I'm a horrible person. I'm sad and desperate and hopeless.
The rest is no problem -- death and broken bones and injured knees and businesses that don't make enough money and tenants that pay their pittance late and the constant drain of worrying about how to keep all these fucking plates in the air. The rest is no problem, I'm serious, if I could just have that one hour back.
Until then, it's me, the harpie raging, shrieking, clawing at those around me, desperate for alone. Desperate.
Reader Comments (2)
I feel bad because I probably have missed a few posts. But where has your solitary morning hour gone to?
Thanks for your comment, Kate! I think my early-morning habit started to erode around the time my husband's stress-level at work peaked and stayed there for two months -- so that if I set my alarm at 4:30, he'd get up, too. Which kinda turned me into a horrible monster of a person to be around, snarling,"what? do i have to get up at 3:30 to have the house to myself?" ugly! Or he'd have such bad stress-related insomnia that he'd wake me up with his departures to and returns from reading on the couch repeatedly in the night, and I'd be just exhausted when the alarm went off, close my eyes for a second, and sleep away my hour. Anyway, probs more than you asked for, in terms of details! I'm trying to get my hour back, but until things settle, I think I'm just accepting less solitude, less writing time and keeping the monster quiet. ;> xo