Lately, I have been waking up at
5-5:30 in the morning, unable to go back to sleep but unable to get out of bed
at 6:15 when my alarm rings. I lay there, tossing and turning, my mind racing,
my body full of anxiety. I dread the morning routine. The stress of getting the
girls dressed, fed, and out the door. And despite needing the time alone, I
dread the long day without company. My human interaction limited to the school
nurse and administrative assistant when I go to pick the girls up at the end of
the day. I’m weary, oh, so weary.
I’m tired
of this place, with its sprawl and lack of community. I’m tired of seeing my
parents once or twice a year, our interactions being limited to daily phone
calls. I’m tired of the lack of local friends and a solid support system. I’m
tired of constantly putting out fires and keeping my patience. I’m tired of the
constant worry. I’m tired of the grind, the monotony, and the treadmill. I’m
simply tired.
I took a
break this weekend. I sat on the couch watching Hallmark movies for most of the
day on Sunday. I let my husband handle feeding the children, entertaining the
children, and cleaning the disaster area that was my house. By the end of the
day I felt refreshed, revived, and able to face Monday. I went into Monday
feeling positive, energized, and productive. I had a good long conversation
with my mom, I folded laundry, I sorted donations, I picked the girls up from
school, engaged them in educational activities, watched as they played outside,
made dinner, bathed Lily, prepared lunches, read stories, and fell into bed at
9 in the evening, feeling good about my day.
This
morning, however, after lying in bed for an hour, unable to doze off and unable
to get up, I feel sluggish, sad, and anxious. Whether it is because my morning
routine is being thrown off because my mom is unavailable to talk, or because I
have no desire to take my morning walk in the cold, I am unsure, but I am
feeling weary, oh, so weary.
In his book
The Subtle Art of Not Giving A Fuck, Mark Manson argues that motivation
comes from doing. Therefore, each day do something and the motivation to do
more will follow. Yesterday, I took this advice and did something to begin my
day, laundry, and low and behold the rest my day felt less like a chore and
more like a choice. Today, I write this blog post in the hopes that the
sluggishness, sadness, and anxiety will melt away as I continue on my day,
choosing to do something rather than wallow in weariness.
