Tired

I am so damn tired.

No fatigue, thanks.  Although I did yawn this afternoon.  Once.

No fear or racing thoughts that will not let me sleep.  Although I have been getting up a few extra times a night.

No sadness or loneliness or apathy.  Although I have tended to find self-preservation in ignoring the pain of the world.

No overworking or underworking or crying.  Although the Christmas lights on my block are so – well, spiritual.

I’m just tired.

It tends to make me feel insecure.  Like I can’t keep up.  Or like I sound silly when I speak.  Or stupid. 

It tends to make me feel like I take up too much space.  Like my self-love flag has flown away and I’m shouting for someone to catch it and I’m being shushed because I’m too loud.

It tends to make me second guess myself.  Like maybe I DO have imposters syndrome.  Do I?  I don’t think so.  But, it turns out, maybe I do.

Or maybe I’m just tired.

I was serving on a Board a number of years ago and we were having a very important conversation that many of us saw differently.  Every time a man on the Board spoke, they spoke with assertiveness, strength, almost as if it was their right to say and feel what they said and felt.  And, of course, it was.

 And every time a woman on the Board spoke, including me, we apologized first.

 “I’m sorry to say I disagree, but…”

“I’m sorry, I see things differently, so…”

“I’m sorry, can I share my perspective…?”

I dare you to say that men often apologize, too, and that I am overgeneralizing.  You know better.

I speak with a firm voice.  I’m strong in word and try to speak with courage.  I have lots of curiosities and I ask questions with boldness.  I want to hear perspectives, and I have worked hard to take up enough space to show that my perspective has value, too.

And still, I hear how lovely I look.  How much younger, I look.  How nice my hair is. 

How I look is the least interesting thing about me. 

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Those of you who can’t sleep.  Who have minds that won’t turn off.  Who are second and third guessing what you said, who you are, your life choices, your future.

 Those of you who are tossing and turning on sidewalks and park benches.

 Those of you nursing your child in the dark.

 Those of you who work when the night begins.  Who are judged for that work.  Who risk your lives, night after night.

 Those of you watching something, anything, until you fall asleep so you can feel like someone in conversation.

 Those of you who are in pain all the time, who dance with the demon of mental illness, who sing with the sirens of physical pain.

 Those of you who have faced the evils of this world:  racism, gun violence, homophobia, transphobia, sexism, domestic violence, systemic destruction, ablism, patriarchy in all its insidiousness and misogyny in all its shadows, individualism, hate, trauma (to name a few).

You are not alone.

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My beloved Mother-in-love, who passed away just over a year ago, has visited me many times to prove this truth.  She has turned up when the men are exhausting me with their refusal to listen to any voice that isn’t theirs. When that happens, in fact, it is her favorite thing.  “B-O-Ys” she whispers.  “Am I right?”

 She is.

 She has turned up when I doubt myself, when I try to shrink away, to become smaller.  When that happens, in fact, is when the lessons of her life become my mantras:  Be as loud as you want, love as boldly as you can, volunteer for as long as possible, teach others as lovingly as you are called into, be eccentric.  Be fierce.

Take a nap. (To be fair, I didn’t learn that from her.  But I know she would approve).

And so I go, tired, to my quilt and my flannel sheets and my favorite pillow.  I will toss and turn and not sleep well tonight.  I will, if lucky, have a dream of what could be.  And then, as is the way, will lose the answers to our deepest longings as I wake up and stretch, later saying:  “I think I had a dream last night”, knowing that is all I can say on the matter because, as soon as I woke up, it began to fade.

 I will mourn what is lost in that dream and I will make it all the way through tomorrow just to be facing the same thing as I did tonight.

 Restlessness, insomnia, and faded dreams.

 All of this to say- sleep well and say hi to me when you see me in your dreams.  I’ll be hanging out with Mary Lou at Snuffys having grilled cheese.  Feel free to join us.  We will be in a booth towards the back and I’ll save you a seat. 

 See you tonight.