I am tired. A kind of tired that positions on my shoulders and neck. Stiff, fragile and relentless. I wish there was a cape there instead.
If I was granted a super power, I would not want to fly. I don't get along with birds that well. I know the feeling of invisibility well enough and do not relish it. Super strength seems like a lot of work and fire or ice throwing would require too much responsibility and restraint. I just want to not feel tired, ever. I would be able to sleep of course, if I wanted but I would never need to.
Exhaustion is a thief. It robs me of my wit and self-esteem. It makes me forgetful, pessimistic, mean, low and slow. It is as if my mind is constantly trying to block out the light. Putting up blackout curtains and turning on a white noise machine. Begging me to sleep so that it has the time to store away the memories that threaten to leave for good.
I have wanted to be free of this basic need since I can remember. The fear of missing out pushing me to come into this world early only to hesitate in the in-between for hours. Once upon a time, I could nearly convince myself that I was indeed gifted. That I did not need sleep. I would work and play and work, shouldering through the walls that came up in front of me until I would fall. Snared by what would become my kryptonite, sickness. Mono, Chronic Lyme Disease, Undiagnosed Auto-Immune whatever, all requiring sleep against my will.
I need to drop my overflowing plates but I do not want to. They are made of my great grandmothers china and filled with things I love. I want to be a perfect wife, mother, rancher, horseman, creator, cook, student, contributor, traveler, friend, woman. I want to gather things and ideas and inspiration unto my balancing plates and spin them like a graceful circus performer. But my eyelids feel heavy and my limbs are dragging behind. I rub at my shoulders and neck and feel no cape. Next, I will succumb to the seasons and let the long nights ahead replenish me so that I may have it all, be it all, just perhaps not all at once.
This sounds like the September I know, too. Hanging on to get through October. I didn’t get through October last year drudging, I left the farm during harvest for the first time in 7 years, to refill my cup in Eastern Oregon. It was hard to turn and walk away from the feeling of “I must” and it was exactly what my body and spirit needed after too many September/ Octobers of just hanging on. keep writing!