As a year of lockdown approaches. A year where we didn’t eat out to help out, a year we didn’t see family even when the law said we could, a year when school, home and work became so intertwined as to be completely indistinguishable.
As that year comes ever closer to its close, I am not heartened by its ending, but instead, am just drained and unable to see straight. I am tired and stressed, fatigued and just void of energy in a way that I cannot even begin to describe anymore.
And I don’t know if I can get back to a place of healthy, happy balance, to a time of abundance and joy but I am going to fight like hell to make that happen.
Because though I am shattered, fatigued beyond even the most arduous of days I have had in life, I am not done.
We are not done.
And that’s why even now, even if I have to squeeze the words out of my parched mind, I write this.
Because it’s a promise I made to myself, a way to talk beyond the tiredness, a way to show I’m still here, still alive, still able.
Yes, I’m fatigued, but I’m not yet forgotten.