I’m tired. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. So my question is, exactly how much caffeine do I need to shake this? Are we talking a venti cup via Starbucks? Or a concentrated slug of Turkish coffee?
I think I’ve been going at break neck speed since early last week. And anybody who has fought chronic fatigue, or an illness like Lyme that often comes with chronic fatigue, knows that such a pace of life can’t be kept up for long. I’ll compare the situation to that of a cheetah. Sure, it can reach 70 mph while chasing prey, making it the fastest land animal, but it can’t keep up that speed for very long.
And I find myself collapsed on the Savanna, breathing heavy, and not much to show for my efforts.
Alright. That sounds a bit dismal. The truth is, I did accomplish some necessary things so that I can start those dared pre-reqs come mid-May. My parking stickers are in place. I have my student ID. I even have what I need to get started with the FAFSA forms. I’m even already registered for my BLS course for future health care providers. My obligations as PTA secretary are also done for the moment. I’ve also managed to keep the household running, making dinners and doing laundry, and all the other glamorous tasks that goes along with having a family.
The added stress I’m experiencing this week is actually due to typical 14 year old girl “drama.” And like all “drama,” its actually all very silly and completely inconsequential in the long run. But it serves to remind me that while my daughter is very largely self-sufficient (we’re talking a straight A student that rarely needs mom’s help with homework anymore, knows how to make her lunch and get her chores done), I still need to step in as mom to protect her, and also use moments like these as teaching tools for larger lessons in life, about how to comport oneself, and how to cope when things get crazy.
Next year is going to be a doozy for all of us. I’ll be starting my courses in earnest come August, and my daughter will be starting her first year of high school. From what I’m told, middle school drama is kid play compared to how the claws can come out in high school. And my poor husband will be supporting the family, my education, and likely putting in close to the 100 hours a week he puts in now. And no, that was not a typo. And yes, he is a saint. Almost 😉
So ideally, this little wrinkle in my daughter’s social and educational world will serve as good place to start getting some basic tools in her tool belt to deal with these issues which are likely to be on a grander scale come next school year. And while I’ve begun that process, there is still so much more that needs to be done, and like I said, I’m tired.
So this cheetah is going to rest among the tall grass on the Savanna, catch my breath, and hit the ground running again.