Low. The opposite of high.

I’m wiped out. Brought low.
This is what non-resilience looks like.
The mere thought of crossing the parking lot exhausts me.
This current low is made worse by the high that immediately preceded it. When I felt competent and interesting, capable, creative and complete. Now I feel fractured, scattered, sinking and slow.
Doc has downgraded me to a bimonthly visit. This is not good.
“I feel as if I’ve just been reeling from crisis to crisis for the last year and a half!” I told him today, jokingly.
“Have you stopped to consider that maybe you have?” He asked me, quite seriously.
Huh.
“Maybe it would help if you cultivated a bit more mediocrity in your life,” Doc says.
Or less eloquently, Dearest says: “You know, you should learn to give less of a shit.”
Way to make me more depressed.
I’m tired.
I’m tired of lowering my expectations, lowering my standards.
I’m tired of taking care of everybody else at the expense of myself.
I’m tired of giving my all, because I couldn’t live with anything less, and then having others – my family, my job, my society – live just perfectly fine with giving less.
I’m tired of waiting for tomorrow to be better.
Really tired. Bloody, bruised. Wiped, worn, washed out. Borne low.

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1 comment so far

  1. Moosilaneous on

    My Darling –
    please give yourself the hug you so fiercely deserve. You are still soldiering on, and that, in itself is worthy of your own celebration.
    Your accomplishments are myriad,but just the mundane is the hardest.
    Way to go.


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