When you are tired, hungry have been lying awake pondering all the things since 2 a.m. and have listened to your beloved cat, Mr. Mavis, purr while lying on your chest and listening to you sob, what do you do when you’ve had enough of all that? You get up and pour yourself a big bowl of bran flakes, eat every flake and watch your boxer dog Millie slurp up the rest of the milk in the bowl before she heads back to bed. But of course.
When I’m tired, no, make that exhausted – I cry. Emotionally and physically exhausted. I cry out of tiredness, exhaustion and the feeling that life is overwhelming and that joy and peace seem to not be attainable in this lifetime. During the day when I have to get up, get out and get stuff done – I pull it together. I always do, always have. But- what happens when the day comes that I can’t? Why do I always have to pull it together and get stuff done? Oh. Yea. Because I’m a strong woman. I’m told that quite often – that I’m a strong woman. On the very rare occasion that I share with someone that I’m struggling, that is invariably what I’m always told. “You will be ok, you are a strong woman”. YA. But what if I wasn’t? What if I’m simply tired of being strong, of pushing through, of feeling that I’m a one woman show against the world? What then?
I reckon I pour myself a bowl of bran flakes and carry on.
My fingers are hovering over the keyboard. What next? There are more words, lots more words, but they won’t come out. Oh well.