I’ve noticed a pattern. I don’t post much in the winter. And winter is long here.
I’ve tried. I really have. Harder at some times than at others, but I’ve tried. I’ve mostly given up at times, but I’ve rallied, and I’ve done at least the bare minimum for most of my time here in the Great White (FRENCH) North. But I’m so tired. I’m tired most of the time. Tired of trying. Tired of failing. Tired of slipping after finding a toehold. Tired of trying to find a new toehold, knowing that I’ll probably slip again. Tired of freaking out, only to find out it doesn’t matter at all, and all of the energy expended in the freakout was just wasted; life is still what it is.
There’s really not much to share with this blog post. I’m writing because it feels like I should. It’s been too long. I tried skiing for the first time. Loved it! Even if it might have destroyed my back for a week afterward. Hated the ER, even though I survived it (over 8 hours alone, in pain, knowing they couldn’t help me). Managed to deal with broken cell screens and cars that wouldn’t start. I work. I come home. I cook for me and the husband when I can. I see friends some. I rinse. I repeat.
I haven’t been great most of the time. And I haven’t been at the end of my rope most of the time. I’ve just been…being. I go to work, when I haven’t been hurting (and a couple of days when I’ve been hurting, but not too hurt to cope). I’ve had a few nights with friends (which are greatly appreciated; I know it seems I’m super-negative here). I’ve had a few nights alone, when I’ve fallen asleep on the couch to TV shows I’ve already seen. Nothing especially bad or especially good, most of the time (though there have been exceptions to the rule on both ends of the spectrum).
Soon. Soon I will see my sister, and my nephew, and my mom, and some of the forever friends on my list of must-sees. Soon, I will break up the monotony of just being with the energy of REALLY BEING.
But not now. Now, I will fight sleep until it’s inevitable. And then I’ll sleep. Probably too much. And then I’ll go to work. And I’ll French. And I’ll rinse and repeat. And then start it all over again. But soon, there’s a big red RESET button. And I’ll push it. And hop on a plane (and off a plane, and on a plane, and off a plane) until I see some of my forever people. And I’ll bask in the glory of sliding into the groove of what I once was. Until I come back, and try to figure out what I’ll be from here on out.