No amount of caffeine is enough to battle my fatigue. The reason is that it’s not the kind of fatigue that comes from 16 hour days or lifting lots of stuff. It’s from grief.
When we lose something we love it’s natural to grieve. We do it at wakes or shiva or memorials for loved ones but who does it when we lose our homes, our neighbors or our connection to a community? Few, that’s who!
I’m “weary to my bones” sang Paul Simon in American Tune. I finally understand that line. Never have I felt this kind of grief because I was frozen, numb and blocked. It took quitting drinking, a lot of ACA and different types of therapy and journaling, but I’m finally here. Feeling.
I called my mom today. For the first time in decades, I called her to say, “I’m suffering, overwhelmed and sad.” Normally (?) I do not move into vulnerability with my mom or my wife because I have lived my life being the strong one for others. No more. I need help and it’s not the “fix me” kind. In fact I really, really don’t want or need to be fixed. I need to be heard and hugged. I need to cry and never hear, “don’t cry”.
When I was a little boy, I had a little gingerbread man, Gingy, who I took to bed with me. I cried myself to sleep sometimes because being a kid is hard. I have him still and he’s going on this trip with me. I’m fact, he’s next to me now.
We both have wounds to heal. And that’s just the way it is.