I am strangely exhausted. This morning I tried to take my niece to the playground to wear her out so she’d take a nap early. The idea was to get her to the Chicago Children’s Museum during its free hours from 5-8. The weather was like, “Ha! Y’all mofos need to stay were y’all at.” We slowly walked a few blocks. At times, the wind literally prevented her from moving forward and her little hands were red like she’d been throwing snowballs. We stopped for hot chocolate which she said she wanted, but then didn’t drink (she’s not human) then made our way back to her house. The morning did not go as planned.
I had a doctor’s appointment at the Travel Clinic so after I dropped her off I took the train downtown and got my shots, pills, and prescription for diarrhea meds while overseas. My arm hurts from the shots and this is all becoming very real; I’m going to Morocco. I’m going to be there for 30 days. This is my life.
Other than the events I just described I didn’t do much — oh, wait…I know why I’m tired. I just remembered like I’d blacked it all out. I won’t get into much detail, but my weariness is a result of emotional strain. It’s been a rough, and honestly childish, week and that can take a lot out of a 30-year old woman. I’ll just say that people are hard, and I’m pondering a life of narcissism. If I’m overly focused on myself then maybe I’ll forget everyone else and it won’t hurt so badly to deal with people. “Hell is other people.”
For now, I’ll focus on finishing up the curriculum for a training I’m facilitating this summer. That’s been fun and tiring as well. It seems that my lifestyle as of late, is more depleting than restorative. What am I doing to replenish myself? Exercise replenishes me in a way because it’s good for me, but I’m not doing the exercise that makes me happy. I’m doing the exercise that is free and convenient, running. I don’t care too much for running. I miss skating derby, riding my bike through traffic in the city, and taking boxing classes at the boxing gym. I miss being able to hit things. I think that may play a role in how quickly I imagined myself resorting to violence during an argument I had last week. Seriously, I experienced glee at the image of me choking someone out. Those that love me don’t understand how prone to violence I am. If there were awards for restraint, I’d be a Hall of Famer. Hitting things keeps me in check. I began writing something last night that triggered a few tears. Emoting that way was helpful, but not enough.
I need to figure out what is enough.
I’m so very tired.