I am exhausted. I wish I could stay in bed all day. I am drained to the bone and have no motivation or energy. The little bit of energy I can eek out goes toward making dinner and forcing myself to take a half hour nature walk. That restores me a little. But I feel as though I am giving up and that whatever I do or don't do from here on in doesn't matter anyway.
How did I reach this place? Is it an accumulation of all the grief and losses over the past few years combined with the stress of living and parenting on my own? I guess it has all just caught up with me and I am left holding the bag of weariness. I do think a large part of it has to do with the only parenting. I do not believe any one should have to assume and face parenting without any support as I have. If single parents lack family support there need to be better and more available programs in place to provide assistance. I know that despite my education and intelligence, that this job has been the most difficult of my life and that it has been costly to my emotional and physical health.
My Mom used to tell me about two of her aunts who had lost their husbands while they were still raising children and the entire family rallied around them to provide support. I know in today's day and age that is less likely to occur. But that doesn't mean it is right.
It is not just the solo parenting and constantly having to make the decisions and dole out the consequences and be the moral instructor. There is no one to bounce off ideas to, or to fill up my emotional tank while I am engaged in the task of caring for others.
Today I went to the doctor for more tests related to my high blood pressure. There had been a mix-up with the prescription so it couldn't be filled until today. I was told to go immediately to WalMart to pick it up and take a pill right then and there. Concern was expressed for my constant headaches and the possibility I'll pass out while driving. I went and did as instructed feeling as I went through the motions, so what? I have no one to share this with, no one who is worried about my health. If I pass out and crash the sedan still needing $600.00 in repairs the only ones with a loss at stake are my sons. That aspect of my life horrifies me. That my social circle has dwindled to the point of me having meaning to only my sons.
I write about this a lot - what I call the fatigue and drain of widowhood. Getting up everyday and going through the day alone, sometimes not talking to anyone but my sons. I know that living and feeling alone are awful for anyone, but I know from my own experience that it has been hard parenting at the same time. I would have made a much better and able widow at age 60 with the kids grown, than I did still having to raise them throughout most of their childhood on my own.
I am hopeful that the anti-depressant medication will kick in soon and provide some relief from my apathy and tiredness. I am also hopeful that once I obtain a job somewhat related to social services that I will feel as though I am making a greater contribution and better about myself. I hope that leads me to meeting people I can relate to socially so my circle will expand and I can feel less alone. I want to remain hopeful that this too will pass and someday I will be involved in an intimate relationship that brings me peace of mind, security, love and affection - keeping my fingers crossed on that one.
But in the meantime I still have to cross this bridge of hard terrain stretching out in front of me. Why is it that my moods are so volatile? Before widowhood I was never like this. Yes, there were days I was bitchy or cross, sometimes even a bit down. But never to the degree of what I have felt over the past years and never the amount of fatigue and wanting to give up. Those moods from my old life passed quickly and were forgotten. These days the highs and lows are frequent and my lows stay longer than the highs. In the past eight years there has been far more sadness than joy - more hardship than ease. I'm not even sure I care that much about happiness and joy anymore. Just some stability, enough to eat and a few people who care that I'm alive, who value my presence. Perhaps when all is said and done, that is what really matters.