Goats know it's not just a matter of sleep.
It's tough to put into words just how much fatigue blows. It's waking up and thinking, "Shit! I have to wake up now? That couldn't possibly have been 7 hours. Surely my alarm clock is mistaken." Of course, it's fatigue, so your conversation with yourself is really more like, "What? Fuck. No *snrzzbabblesnork." Your thoughts are definitely not coherent. It's good that I'm the only human awake at first in the house. No actual dialogue required because I can't think clearly let alone formulate words into meaningful phrases.
I'm sure these sea lions have deeper conversations.
Fatigue requires that you pull your ass out of bed even though everything else in your body fights for you to stay right where you are. You know you have to feed the cats. You know you have to make the coffee. You know you must do your yoga, your work out, your meditation, yet you don't know how you can possibly manage it all. It's simply overwhelming. Your morning routine is only beginning and you feel like it's the most arduous thing you've ever attempted. It's like facing Mount Everest with nothing but a stadium blanket and handful of fruit snacks. You are so completely unprepared you feel like it's not even possible to begin the day let alone muster the will to go to work.
Indeed, poor owl: there's still 8 hours of work to get through.
Yup. Once you actually manage to dress yourself between your dry, unfocused eyes and fumbling, swollen hands, you have to then go out that door and drive to work. You know what all needs doing that day and you drive to work despite the helpless feeling that it'll be an eternity until the warmth of the bed envelops you again. You just hope that whatever the day throws at you, you will find some way to be alert, articulate, and accomplished. But you know there's a high likelihood that at least some of your to-do list will be moved to tomorrow's list. You haven't even begun, yet you know something won't be got to. Maybe many somethings. But there you are. Driving to work anyway.
Dude, I wish I had your energy and determination. Also, I admire the fashion choice.
Once you're at work, you settle in for the day. You feel somewhat disconnected and please, oh please don't let anyone have a crisis. Please don't ask me any questions I haven't already prepared an answer to. I couldn't possibly be expected to formulate lucid thinking for any thoughtful or insightful discourse. Just don't even try.
Yup, that's about it, Dean. I knew you'd understand.
During that last half hour of work, your mind has jellified. You've given up trying to be productive. You know that in less than an hour, you will be home. You can shed your workplace veneer. That shield you need to get through the day even though you feel so completely fogged you can't believe no one notices. But they don't. You've gotten that good at faking it. Now though, you just want to take off that bra, put on your robe, and do something mindless like Netflix or kill demons in Diablo. Just don't make you be around people or talk or think or anything of any merit really. Just. Let. You. Be.
Nope. Move along. Nothing to see here. Just sleeping.
Once you reach the safety of home once again, you get comfy. Maybe you pull a beer from the fridge, maybe you make yourself some tea. Whatever beverage you choose, you breathe a mighty sigh that you've made it through another day. You rinse the dishes and load the dishwasher before you sit down because you know you won't be getting up once you finally crash on the sofa. You've already set your clothes out over the weekend so you wouldn't have to make such decisions during the week. Your spouse is bringing home groceries and is making dinner because that's what he does. He loves to cook even though he has his own fatigue battle to face. Thank the goddesses you don't have to stand and prep and cook. You can scroll Facebook or just close your eyes while you wait for dinner. Dinner means Netflix. Netflix means you're that much closer to bed.
What do you mean it's still light outside? Dammit!
It's early Sunday evening. Monday looms on the horizon. It starts all over again. Two days' rest has not been enough to recover. If only sleep were enough. I know it won't be though. I know I'll wake feeling like I've been through that proverbial wringer. On a scale of 1-10, I'm about a 6 and the work week hasn't even kicked in.
Who knows? Maybe tomorrow I'll wake up feeling refreshed and ready to conquer the day. Maybe I'll have energy and enthusiasm and not just this sense of, "Please oh please. Just let me get through. I'll stop being jealous of our cats and their ability to sleep 20 hours instead of only 7 if I can just get through today." Maybe.
Go to sleep, Moose. Tomorrow's another day; you don't know what it holds and that's ok. Rest now.
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