It’s Been a Long Summer and I Feel So Tired

Photo by Ethan Robertson on Unsplash

If I could, I would blame being tired on my depression.

Sadly, it’s not that simple. I know my depression has been hanging around. There are days when I am just not “with it.” This is actually most of my days since Mom died. My father died over 30 years ago, and I do not remember having so many down days. I knew he was gone, and certainly missed him.

But I had Mom, a new wife, and small children to take care of.

Back to the present, I did not think Mom’s death would affect me like it has. I knew it was coming. She would have been 97 in October. But even knowing or preparing is different than the reality of her actually dying. And these feelings, or lack thereof have made getting through the days harder.

Since my mother died at the end of March, I cannot think of more than an hour or two of rest.

Instead of rest, I am on edge. Not heart racing, I’ve got to do something or else kind of on edge. It’s more the waiting for the next shoe to drop kind of edge. It’s like I have predicted it is going to happen, but I don’t know when that will be. Instead of doing nothing, I have been going outside. The fresh air and sunshine have helped. But every step on our property reminds me of all of the things that need doing. The first thing is to get the yard mowed, then weed eat. Recently, there has been just enough rain to keep the grass growing. So, while doing all of the yard work, and keeping the grass mowed, I may have squeezed in a few hours of self-care.

But yard work is different from rest or quiet time.

In fact, most yard work is the exact opposite. It’s sitting on the riding mower for a few hours. And it’s weed eating along the edge of the front porch, the back of the house, the blueberry bushes, and the entire fence line, about one acre in size. It’s taking the riding mower between the house and the garage, mowing as much of that area as possible.

Then it’s weed eater time again to trim up what the riding mower can’t get.

The yard does look pretty nice when I am done. And that brings a measure of satisfaction. But satisfaction is different from rest or quiet time. Satisfaction is the by product of work. And work is different from rest or quiet time. Right now, writing out how I am feeling about not resting is not resting.

So here I am, all dressed up and no place to go.

I did go to the gym this morning. It was my cardio day. 34 minutes on the treadmill, with a top speed of 3.5 mph and the treadmill raised 2.5 whatever’s. I managed 1.75 miles in 34 minutes, which included 4 minutes of cool down after my run. I did get my heartrate elevated into the fat burning zone and for a few minutes I was in the cardio zone.

Tomorrow I will be back to muscle building, after a 10-minute warm up on the rower.

It is amazing how proud I seem of all of this work. Why am I thinking that this is the answer? Objectively, it seems I should be finding time to do nothing. This time could be spent reflecting and relaxing. Yet I do not seem to be able to do that. I cannot even sit on the front porch in the morning without doing something. Drinking my coffee and watching the wildlife used to be enough. Heck, I wouldn’t even bring my phone out of the house. It was just me, my coffee, the morning air, and the wildlife.

Recently, I haven’t been able to separate myself from my technology.

I know being continually plugged in isn’t helping me not be tired. And having to think about all of the world’s problems isn’t a game I should be playing. I see that I am having trouble just thinking about me and what is next. And perhaps that is part of the issue.

What is next always involves my family.

Now that the funeral is over, what’s next with mom is only keeping her memory alive. Perhaps there is a bit of a letdown now that my main job is essentially over. Getting mom’s final wishes carried out was my job. Bringing her to the church the day before the burial, I made it a point to take the long way.

Even though Mom’s ashes were the only part physically with me, I still felt like she would enjoy seeing the neighborhoods again.

Now her ashes are buried next to my father. Mom’s final wishes have been carried out and she is at rest. So why can’t I rest? What is it that is keeping me from letting go? As I say that, letting go may be what I haven’t done yet. Maybe once I can do that, I will finally be able to rest and relax.

I’ll write more and let you know when I feel like I can rest and relax.