It’s the end of the year, and I’m tired.
It’s been a good year, in a lot of ways. I started my own business and made many discoveries about myself, several of them good, some of them far reaching. I did not starve my family to death in the meantime, so that’s always a bonus.
My mother had a major accident. She may end up with serious permanent disabilities, on top of her current chronic condition. I’m, realistically, the only person in her life in a position to support her financially or emotionally. I feel stretched very thin, and I feel very anxious about how this might play out.
It’s hot at the moment. It’s very hot: global warming plus El Nino plus I already live in one of the hottest places in which people live on Earth (probably. You look it up. I’m too tired). It causes me a lot of anxiety. I’m only this year realising how much anxiety, and how maybe that’s not entirely normal. It occupies a lot of my mind, when it’s this hot: I spend my time talking myself down off a ledge, reminding myself that there’s no reason to panic, and I’ll get through it, and autumn will eventually come. I have to do this over and over again, because the fear part of my brain doesn’t really listen, and it gibbers at me, rattling the bars of its cage so loudly that it can’t hear.
That’s quite tiring, as well.
I hurt someone the other day with a careless tweet, without meaning to or thinking much about it at the time, and she lambasted me pretty savagely for it. And I have a lot to say about that, some of it sad, some of it defensive, some of it angry. But I don’t really want to. I just want to move on and forget about it and process it later maybe, when I’m not so tired.
And I’m fat, and my trich is a constant struggle, and I don’t want to fight with my own body. Can’t we all just get along?
Most of what I’m tired of is thinking and feeling. Who knew it could be so exhausting, living life as a sentient being? Do I really get no respite from it, because I have addictive tendencies? That seems unfair. I don’t drink, I don’t smoke pot, and let’s face it I need to move away from using food as a palliative. I read a lot of books, I go for walks, I sit with my feelings. I mean, I know what to do.
But it’s tiring.