tired

Original date 2 October 2011

I can't write. I'm tired, so, so, so fucking tired. I don't know how I will get up tomorrow and begin another day. I am tired of putting on my battle armor every morning to go through my day. I am in over my head, trying to earn enough for me to survive.

I feel my energy being leeched, drawn out, mercilessly sucked from me every day. I just don't see how this can keep happening. I can not replenish as quickly as it is drawn forth.

I’m tired of being a widow. I’m tired of bringing the car to the mechanic when the red maintenance light visually screams at me. I’m tired of running out of food and being responsible for getting more. I’m tired of waking up by myself. I’m tired of being solely responsible for bringing in all the income, paying all the bills, making sure the kitchen is clean.

I’m tired of telling people I’m a widow. I’m tired of using it to help me get what I need or don’t need (like that traffic ticket). I’m tired of the look that people give me when they find out I’m a widow. I’m tired of that fucking gentle touch on the arm which really means “I’m so sorry for you and I’m so glad it’s not me.”

I'm tired of my widow story.

I’m tired of explaining that widowhood is not all doom and gloom. I’m tired of talking about the growth, the joy, the fun it is too.

I’m tired of telling myself that I will be better person for your death.  I’m tired of not knowing what will trigger sobbing.

I’m tired of the irritated sound of my friend's voices when I need to talk.  I’m tired of the shallow “OMG! You look so great!” as if there is a direct correlation between looking good and feeling good. I’m tired of admiring my body…by myself since I've been losing all the weight I gained while taking care of you.

I’m tired of being lonely. I’m tired of writing about widowhood. I’m tired of crying. I’m tired of missing you.

I’m tired of loving the person I have become since you have been gone.

I’m tired of forgetting, in very brief moments, that you are dead.

I’m tired of forgiving myself for the missed phone calls, forgotten plans and skipped lunches. I’m tired of discovering that the reason I have been feeling so crappy for so many days is because I have been in a death march.

I’m tired of looking forward to the weekend, only to realize the weekends offer no break from my reality.

I’m tired of not having anyone to look horrible in front of but still be loved. I’m tired of not having someone to talk about the car or the stupid pedestrian I almost hit while driving home today.

I’m tired of having no one to discuss my day with. I’m tired of thinking about the energy and time it takes to get into a new relationship. I’m tired of craving sex. I’m tired of wanting to be held, of needing to be touched.

I’m tired of wanting someone to take care of me, so I can have the energy to take care of everything and everyone else.  I’m tired of clean sheets and a clean body and no one to enjoy them with.

I’m tired of wishing I could see you just one more time, just one more fucking time, healthy.

I’m tired of writing about you. I’m tired of talking about you. I'm tired of missing you.

I’m tired. I am so, so, so fucking tired.  So honey? When the fuck are you coming back? Because I’m tired of this shit.