It’s hard sometimes to admit that I’ve reached the end of my physical strength.
I’m much more adept at finding the edges of my emotional limits. I’m even half-way good at understanding that my brain just isn’t what it used to be.
But giving up on getting up? That feels like defeat to me.
But it’s not.
I am a fragile human being and just like all human beings have limits. My body can only take so much. If I push too far past the boundary of exhaustion it will take more than rest to bring it back to working order.
So today, after six weeks of stress, mental strain and travel, I’m resting.
Not just sitting down for a few minutes between chores but curling up with a book and glass of tea and not moving all day.
At least that’s my plan.
We’ll see how it goes.
I really need to rest.
I hope I can.
Yesterday was one of those days-a mixed bag. I enjoyed an unseasonably cool yet sunny day but sorrow was sighing in the blowing breeze.
I’ll be honest:
I want to quit.
I want to give up.
I’m tired of hauling the extra weight of grief while trying to do the everyday.
Every. single. thing. is harder and takes more effort than it used to.
I want a time-out!
I’d take even two minutes of absolute unadulterated rest and joy.
I am stronger and more capable than I was, but today, this minute-I’m just plain tired.
I’m often teetering on the brink of despair and forced to throw out my arms in a desperate attempt to maintain my balance.
Six months ago, in one of my first posts, I wrote:
One reason grief is so exhausting is that every step I take is on a balance beam of faith and hope.
I must navigate every necessary task without falling off.
Read the rest here: Walking The Balance Beam