Freakin' Tired

Bone Tired. Brain Tired. Deep Down In My Soul Tired. But the Sleepless On Da Rock story continues. My room--sans those large black plastic garbage bags of crap thanks to the rummage sale--is a little nicer-feeling. But I'm feeling so unsettled that I just don't want to lay down. I feel like there's so much to be done.

Sun got to school WAY late today. Neither of us could get it together. Yes, I'm chronically late. Yes, Fat Lady, I think "MOM" should be a category/cause for being chronically late, but I also think "Single MOM" should be, as well. It's not that I have it harder than any other mom... at least not if you listen to most moms on the planet who bitch about the lack of help from their Significant Other. And some single moms are efficient and organized. Though I really haven't met one (and the Professor claims to be, but in certain instances I could beg--rather loudly--to differ).

But I'm just worn out. Riding around with the Fat Lady last Thursday, on our way to pierce our noses, she had gotten a call from The Bull who was stressing because Spice wanted juice and there was none in the house. The Bull never asked her where she was... and she never told him, either, deftly maneuvering the conversation around so that she merely told him she'd be home soon. And he hung up, and I guess he handled whatever the situation was, and we went on and pierced our noses (I LOVE mine, by the way. I don't know why I waited so long...except I was always afraid it wouldn't look right on my African nose. But it does.)

And it suddenly occurred to me: I have never had that. It has always been me and the Sun. Even when FBB was around, even on days when our relationship was actually functioning fairly normally, I have never been able to just run off and pierce my nose, knowing my kid was *home* with a parent. (A lack of juice in the house, if FBB were home with the Sun would have a been a MAJOR fight and a MAJOR reason for me to rush my ass home and not get my nose pierced.) Hell, running to the store because I suddenly realized I needed an egg or a carton of milk is a major production. Do I dress him and take him with me? Or do I just not go? Up until very recently, the latter was usually what happened. Now, he's 8, and I can park him in front of the TV or Playstation and a phone and tell him DON'T MOVE DON'T ANSWER THE DOOR and run out for a sec.

So right now, as the school year ends, there's "endofschoolyear" tired, but on top of that I think there is just "eightyearsoftired". But there's just too much to do. Sleep is a necessity... but it's also a luxury. But I'm too damn tired to stay up and do anything, and the mind is still churning regardless and so lately, as I sit in my chair and try to figure out the finances, or process digital pictures (I've been taking a lot lately, which is sort of my creative outlet at the moment) my mind just blanks out. I wake up an hour or two later, but neither body or mind is rested, and so I try again to finish whatever it was I was doing. Then I get up and realize FUCK. I STILL haven't taken out the garbage/made up my bed/set up my coffee/got his clothes out for the next day/got my clothes out for the next day/changed the laundry/took laundry out of the dryer/washed the mound of fucking dishes/put the dinner leftovers away/etc.

I'm tired of complaining, too. And sick and tired of being tired. I keep thinking "if I just make my house comfortable, get my systems back in place, I could function better". But it just takes too much effort and when the fuck do I have time????

On the positive side, I got through school. I changed my career. I think my fight with FBB might ALMOST be over. I'm SLOWLY weeding through the junk I seem to amass. I DO have a job in my new field. Major accomplishments, to be sure, but at such a slow-ass pace. It's taken me about 10 years to change my career... from the first thought that "maybe this is what I want to do to" "hey! I am actually doing this". It's taken me 5 years to be almost rid of FBB (as rid as you can be of a child's parent, I mean). It's taken me 4 years to get a job where I actually love what I do (it's just too bad I'm not actually doing it and the people suck the big hairy one). It's taken me about 3 years to get *any* kind of organization going again. But I wish my progress weren't so slow.

And again, I'm getting really sick of bitching. So I won't anymore.

But I'm tired, and that's why I haven't written too much over the past few days, and there's lots I want to comment on. But I'm too damn tired.

Comments

professor said…
excuse you...I AM organized, its just that my dear diva do not share my organizational traits...and I PRIORITIZE, so I dont leave the house on the weekend until the house is CLEAN...I NEVER leave any project half done...
Dr Donna said…
I am sharing your chronic fatigue... work, get home, get kids to bed, more work, up late, up early, back to work... and I'm not flying solo...
hang in there, it IS getting better
miss you and Sun,

Dr Donna
swordlicious said…
So look, 'Little Black Sambo' was about India. Dark Indians were called Sambo's by the British, I guess the term got spliced onto dark skin people, but the original story took place in India, thus, the tiger. I think the 'golliwogs' were Indian also, dark skinned people with shiny curly hair, or straight hair, as in the Bangladeshi
The Bear Maiden said…
Well, the original version was. But there was a knock-off version with drawings that were lampooning Africans. And I swear I saw a copy of that book somehow in my childhood... possibly because I was in Jamaica, and Jamaica being a former colony of England would sometimes have stuff like that floating through, especially in the late '60's. And also "Sambo" was a definite term used to refer to Americans of African descent...

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