I feel incapable of writing anything profound lately because I am exhausted. Lack of sleep. Tantrums (mine and my son’s). Travel. Stressful work situations. A dog who’s health is failing.
At night I have weird dreams. I’m working through so many emotions all the time. It’s overwhelming my subconscious.
I feel like I’m surviving right now. I’m so tired all the time when I finally do get a moment to write I’m lost.
What matters? What do I want to say? What happened that was interesting? Or funny? I used to be so funny. Now I’m just a whiner.
I’m confronted nightly by an empty space on the page and in my mind. There’s an avalanche behind it. But I feel like I can’t get to all the things I really want to say because I’m just trying to make it through to the next day.
Maybe that’s just the reality of having two young kids. But also there are a lot worse and a lot harder situations to have to deal with. And maybe I need to suck it up and dig deeper. Otherwise I’m just sharing garbage every night. Garbage that I don’t feel good about.
Or maybe I’m too hard on myself. Probably. But I also want to write about so many things. But in the quiet moments at the end of the day I’m too tapped to write them all down. When I just want to shut off.
Maybe tomorrow. No. Tomorrow for sure. For sure I’ll get them out.
