Tired, and tired of explaining that.

I am tired. This week, I muttered to myself that I didn’t think I could get more tired. I foolishly say this to myself when we have had a tiny blip of what seems like normal and nice then we get slammed and I know that I probably will get more tired, than I already was.

Life has thrown some pretty hefty stuff at us, the end of last year, was the hardest for us, that life has been for a good long while, and for reasons we can’t really talk about here, because we chose to share that only with a few people we felt needed to know to support us but it drained us emotionally, it triggered a major anxiety slide for me, and we came through it but we are still battered and bruised and tired. Not broken, but nearly.

After the lovely weekend we had, we were slammed hard. The husband has been really unwell. Unwell enough for me to spend most of the night on Monday night awake, or semi dozing, keeping half an eye on him, wondering how fast I could either get him to see an on call doc, or wait to see our own GP. He saw our GP (and I am eternally grateful for an excellent GP practice locally, who have never failed us. I haven’t slept much, either from looking after him, or from worrying about him. We have done pnuemonia, with him, and that was a hell of a scary few weeks, and a long recovery time, and I don’t want to go there again so I jump on getting making him get seen when his chest sounds not quite right to me.

A pretty serious chest infection, some antibiotics, and he’s not really on the mend yet. We wait, and see how he goes.

In the meantime, I realise how much I rely on him as my partner to keep life running, and I realise how tired he is, and how we both are.

I don’t know if tiredness as a parent ever goes away, but I do feel like life has and keeps throwing stuff at us and I am tired of that, and I am tired of being tired.

I am also tired of telling people I am tired. I spend a fair bit of my life running around after other people and I have reached the point where I don’t want to do that, because I have to decide between looking after me and us, and the exaustion I feel, mentally trying to pull myself back from the brink of a bleak mental health period and things we have dealt with as a family, and as the expression goes, “pull on my big girl pants” drink more coffee and carry on because reality is, people don’t get it.  People only see what they want to see, and it’s not convenient for them to see the tiredness of other people. We generally are pretty good at faking it to keep other people happy, but every now and then, I slip up, and I let it be known that right now, we are tired. We need grace, we need people to get that.

I am tired, I will be fine. I will pull myself together. I allow myself a bit of a pity part, ate some cake, got a bit grumpy, and now I carry on.

This post isn’t really relevant to anyone or anything. I just needed to say, what I can’t say in real life, how hard life feels right now. I hate having to justify where we are at, I hate having to explain. I hate feeling tired and knowing there isn’t much respite or break.

It is what it is. I am allowed to share how I feel. Kind of “it’s my blog and I will have a whine if I want to”.

More coffee anyone? Whilst you are at it, I would like a holiday somewhere warm, a manicure, and someone to be my PA. Oh and a lottery win too.