You're tired.
I am. Of lots of things. Fatigue has been a monster this month. I rush around to get some things done because I know time is running out and I'll be splayed out on the sofa unable to do anything but watch mindless shows with Mike.
Why does it bother you to do nothing?
............
I asked ...
I heard you. I'm thinking.
Take your time.
I don't know. Is that an answer? Yes, of course, it is. Right. I don't know. My life was filled with things to do. I made it so. I married at 17 and for five years I was a wife. I stayed busy with church, reading, sewing, finishing school. I had children. I stayed busy with a hyperactive child, moving several times overseas and back, sewing for a family, cooking, cleaning for a family of 4, training my children, refinishing furniture, and remodeling various houses we rented.
I went to college at 31, spent the next five years in school, my husband got sick, then he went to Desert Storm, I stayed home with two teenagers and a full class load. He came back in a year, got sicker and got out of service and drove a truck for two years so we wouldn't starve. I was still raising teenagers and in school. I finished and went to work. He got a local job then got sicker. I worked. Kids married crazy people and moved away but came back bringing crazy people with them. Crazy people left, kids stayed. Then my husband died.
So, why can't I do nothing?
You feel useless.
I feel unproductive. Then, the writing goes nowhere. I should take up pottery. Quilting. Painting. Something tangible. Even crochet more stuff.
It's one of those days, isn't it?
You could say that. I'm really tired. I've worked all day on this story and I'm feeling a bit down in the dump.
You don't know how to not do something.
No. I don't. We're taught, very young, that idle hands are the devils workshop. So, we have to be busy. So, I feel that I have to be doing something. But most of it feels as if it isn't progressive. Even this post seems to go nowhere.
Written in May, 2015 - It didn't go anywhere.
