I am exhausted. It’s not entirely justifiable, but then depression doesn’t do “justifiable” or obvious reasoning
Christmas was entirely on my shoulders. It is most years but particularly so this year due to S’s major deadline. I felt overwhelmed and experienced low patches but hey, I actually did it. Go me!
I treated the last day of school as my finish line. Pushed to make it across and then I could breathe easy. No alarm clocks. S at home. Pressure off. Time for peace and rest
Except I don’t feel rested, I feel more exhausted than ever.
Morning 1 saw both my eldest and S’s alarm clock wake me up far too early. Was knackered and grumpy but got over it. I thought.
Morning 2 saw us woken in the early hours with my son vomiting. Painful to wake up to deal with it but can’t be helped. Sorted, back to sleep to be woken for the day by daughter two hours later. She normally sleeps late when left to own devices. Cursed my misfortune
Stay indoors all day with poorly child which is nice to a point but staying inside all day starts to bother me after awhile
Snatched tense hours of sneaking away to bedroom to wrap and praying neither child walks in. Adrenalin. Tiring.
Become run down and pick up a touch of eldests illness.
One evening of rest. Of feeling at ease and relaxed and soothed and my mind at peace
Christmas Eve and daughter doesn’t go to sleep for about 2 hours despite best efforts. S deals with most of the practicalities of this however the waiting is as exhausting as it is frustrating. Gone is any chance of simply wallowing in Christmas Eve warmth before being Father Christmas and going to bed. Waiting. On stand by to help. Can’t be Father Christmas until child is asleep. Am shattered. Eyes are sore. Can’t sleep until child is asleep and Father Christmas’s has been.
S finally comes down stairs to tell me daughter is finally asleep and I sob. And sob. And sob. Something has tipped. Physical exhaustion very much present but a much deeper kind of mental exhaustion has begun to take hold
Eldest turns out to be awake in his bed. Wait for him to sleep. Eventually I get to sleep at 2am
Woken at 6:30 Christmas Day and it’s agony. I’m sure a great deal of parents can sympathise with that particular kind of Christmas morning tiredness. But lord this is a struggle. Best gift I was given was a couple of Day Nurse capsules and a sachet of instant Starbucks coffee. Children are happy, the ill one included. And I am happy to see them happy. Can mostly ignore tiredness that haunts me faintly. Though Each cough of mine saps a disproportionate amount of energy, or so it feels. Coughs are exhausting. I’m lucky in that S takes over in the kitchen yet I Am flagging by the late afternoon. Drift off on the sofa. Daughter refuses to sleep for an age again (this is the norm for her and is extremely trying). Good day by all means but Am feeling run down and depleted.
I’m tired. I’m tired. I’m tired.
I found myself repeating at turns in a variety of tones. Dismissively and casual and snappily and desperate. S assumes I need sleep. I do but it’s so much more than this. I need something else too but I dont know what.
Boxing Day morning. This morning. Have sufficient sleep over the course of the night, but I continue to feel exhausted non the less. I realise now that the exhaustion I feel is so much deeper than what sleep can cure. If it were merely a case of physical exhaustion, of sleep then I’d have been fine by now. I’ve not been over worked. I’ve slept enough to make up for the late nights and early mornings. It doesn’t make sense. Besides I can feel the difference.
I’m tired. I’m tired. I’m tired. I’m exhausted!!
These words leave my mouth more frequently today. Rest is suggested by S, first loosely but then more firmly. We return from a walk I had a sense was a bad idea for me to go on yet guilt insisted I participate. On edge and irritable throughout I was in tears as soon as I returned through the door. Hot despairing and coming from somewhere deep inside
“I’m so very tired. I’m just so tired. Tired of everything. It’s like…like…erosion!! I can’t. I don’t know. I’m exhausted”
This stops after some minutes and taking S’s advice rest on the sofa I loose myself for two hours in Matthew Bournes Cinderella and I do feel a little refreshed by the end of it
One hour later I’m sobbing hot tears again. Head in my hands propped on the coffee table in an attempt to hide my face. Fatigue running through every cell or so it feels. I’m sensitive to noise. The whining of a five year old feels like an assault to my senses. I even wince at S’s volume, usually it’s the other way round. I cover my ears until I’m alone in the room. I’m frozen in place. Everything’s unbearable. S suggests I go to bed, that I rest, that I sleep….
”It’s not that type of tiredness!!! It won’t help, not properly”
”So what will???”
The frustration and despair of being asked that question!!
“I don’t know!! I know I need something, but as to what I just don’t know”
It’s a horrible feeling, to be self aware enough to know you desperately need something, a different something, something help but can not articulate exactly what. I search within myself to identify what I’m feeling, within my brain for vocabulary to use but come up with nothing. It’s despairing
I know the feeling of what I’m feeling but I do not know the name for it nor the solution
Will simply have to wait for it to pass I suppose. Go to bed each evening in hopes that tomorrow will be different as I do during every low point