I’m living in a body that does not have the capability to stay awake.
I’m held captive trying to get through each day, knowing I could shut down at any moment.
My eyes are heavy.
My head pulsates.
I disengage before I even give consent.

I’m so tired all the time.
I need a nap after basic things.
Shower. Nap.
Cook. Nap.
Eat. Nap.

The yawning is uncontrollable and a clear indicator.
I wonder if i could get assistance but don’t want others to view me as lazy or taking the easy way out.
Is my disability valid enough?
Will sympathy be shown for this unconventional disorder?
It’s hard to relate to anyone.
People often tell me we are all tired.
But I know that not everyone contemplates sleeping in a bathroom stall at work daily.
I know others could get a good nights rest and a boost from their favorite cup of coffee.
I know others don’t go to war with themselves about walking out just to go home and rest .. leaving my family financially unstable and confused.

As I write this, my eyes feel heavy.
They burn a little.
My head and neck give out occasionally.
I’m uncomfortable yet again.
And I don’t see any resolution in sight.
I’m chronically fatigued.

I left the door open so that i could walk out
And i stood on the other side of the doorway, encouraging myself to follow
She didn’t move
I didn’t budge

So empty and unsetting
I shouted “come on girl, lets go”
But she followed up with a blank stare

I wondered if i was okay
Was she?
Were we?

I attempted some hand gestures hoping she would move
But she didn’t
And i squinted in confusion

Then i thought about what i needed
From me

So i walked through the open door
Gently grabbing her hand
And walking toward the exit

She followed
She smiled
I smiled
We were okay

Out the door we made it
Leaving all emptiness behind
And we hugged filling the space that once felt unsettling

I was browsing through “My Mother’s Story” for a prompt. Not for my mother, and not for the children I don’t plan on having, but for me. I am my own mother in many senses.

“What was the hardest period of your life and why?”

My instant thought was “in a sense I am still living it, yet it has passed many times”.
It’s recurring. I am plagued with anxiety and depression many times for many reasons.
It never completely leaves me; sometimes it’s just managed better. It’s like keeping it in a box in the attic.
Then a trigger or a stress, consciously or not, just opens the attic door. Scours through the piles of chaos. Finds the box. And of course, proceeds to dump all of its belongings in every bit of the house. Messy messy I feel.

Right now, I am exhausted. Drained. Sad. Far from content. Miles from happy.
I want rest – not from sleep, but from life’s stresses.
I need clarity; a sure direction on where I am going.
I desire joy – self acceptance, motivation, calmness.
I’m yearning for change – beach, sand, sun on end.

I am the type of tired a nap doesn’t shake.
I’m so uneasy that a hug doesn’t help relax me.

Is this what a quarter life crisis feels like?
And although 75% of people in my age bracket experience this, does that actually make it normal?
Even more unsettling.

So I’ll take this day as both a win and a loss. Winning because I’m making it through with every bit of life inside of me. Losing because I know times have been and will be better.
The stable me will return. She will strike again with her optimism, free spirit, and bolts of energy.

Until then, a restless girl I will be.

I gave myself a goal and tried to meet it,
And then I had roadblock.
I had a desire and tried to feed it,
But my hunger continued to rise.
I’m uneasy because I’m stuck in an ambitious mind,
However the same mind plays tricks on me.
Who’s in charge up there?
Are you mocking me?
Do we not share the same goals?
Fatigue of the body is stressful.
Fatigue of the mind is crippling.
I have both.
Motivation is deep inside me,
Oh how I love to feel passion spark a match.
My dreamy eyes and eager intents equate
to a child receiving five singles.
Richness.
I allow myself the space to breath,
But the gap keeps getting wider and the breaths are uneven.
When will I get up and go for it?
How do I do that now?
I’m so tired of the repetition,
Get me out of this miserable routine.
I’ll reset the goal and try to meet it.
I’ll feed the desire again, and again,
And again.
Will I arrive at my destination?
Good question. Let’s see.

The Art of Growth

Stagnant. Dormant. Idle. Sluggish.
All feelings of a pace I’ve gotten too familiar with.
I’m in a courtship with anxiety,
And an engagement with depression.
Yet, these are two relationships I don’t want to be a part of.

Reflect. Ponder. Meditate. Think.
These daily reminders ping in my head.
Telling me to give myself a break, take it easy, let it out and let it go.
But they only stay for the moment, and then I forget to be kind to myself.

I wonder what being 30 is like for others.
I wonder what being 30 is like for me.
Am I behind? Am I lost? Is this okay?

I reflect on how everyone is moving at their own pace.
I ponder over how far I’ve come, yet how short of a time I’ve been around.
I meditate on how there’s no such thing as behind, because this is my version of now.
I think about how being lost isn’t a bad thing. It’s an opportunity to learn.
It’s okay. I’ll be okay. And that’s the art of growth.