The challenges of the fatigue

I am tired.

Whenever I think that to myself, I remember a phone conversation with my mother once, many years ago when my children were small, in which she said “You’re always tired.” My spouse has said the same to me. So in recent years, I have tried using synonyms, or developing a scale to indicate my level of tired: wiped, exhausted, wilting, fatigued.

When one is chronically fatigued, it becomes difficult to enjoy even the most wonderful things.

And it’s easy to get overwhelmed.

Worse, with chronic fatigue, there is never enough rest. You go to bed tired and wake up, still tired.

I’ve read that this kind of fatigue and problem with sleep is one of the many, many indicators of autism. It also connects to the fibromyalgia.

What can help is distractions. Over the last few days, focusing on the baby doll layette and the course prep for the college have worked. I’ve also been paying regular attention to updates on by YouTubers about the situation in Grindavik, Iceland — I have always been interested in natural disasters, and this is a slow-moving event that fascinates me. Plus, my son and his girlfriend are home for the weekend, and it’s so nice to have them here.

I wish I could find a way to keep my mood and energy up, though. I feel so badly every time I have to bow out and rest. Fortunately, my immediate family / household is very forgiving.

Today I accomplished a phone meeting with my editing client, and following that with tasks for their project; I went with my spouse to an appointment at the bank, after which I probably should have had a nap, but I opted to have more coffee and work on course prep instead. Daughter made me a grilled cheese sandwich for lunch. I ended up feeling a bit frustrated by a complication in the course prep, and by supper, I desperately needed a nap, so I did, but I felt guilty and like a bad host because I hadn’t started anything for dinner. I argued with myself, “This is a household of adults — they can fend for themselves. But I am hosting them, I’m the parent, I should be the one providing food…” In the end, my elder offspring and his partner cheerfully got themselves a pizza with their Pizza Hut points, and the younger offspring and I had some tasty frozen ready-mades. And I have promised that tomorrow, when my daughter’s boyfriend comes for supper, I will make them quiche because it’s been a while since I have made quiche from scratch and we have most of the ingredients already.

That was one thing I didn’t get to doing, in Paris: I really wanted an authentic Parisian quiche Lorraine.

After supper, which ended up being late, I remembered that my dear friend’s store is open until 8 pm and there was an item I had been forgetting to pick up: one of those incense burners for a cone, the kind that lets the smoke kind of cascade down. So I had my son drop me off — he came in to say hello — and sat with my friend for the last thirty minutes or so of her Friday evening hours, enjoying a chat and some coffee. And then she drove me home, where the young man had set up his Nintendo Switch. It was fun playing MarioKart, which I hadn’t done for a number of years, but the controller made my hand cramp, which was frustrating.

And now I am facing down the unfinished: the course outline and binder (earlier this evening, I printed out copies of all of the slideshows for reference purposes); the main four assignments that I want to adjust to be more inclusive; my client’s current pages (they need an additional copy with some work done on them); my client’s next set of pages; the baby doll’s little hat needs a few more centimetres of knitting; my own manuscripts… Plus I need a haircut, a shower, the old nail polish taken off my fingers, and the never-ending pile of laundry.

Let me remember Paris, again, for the little lift it will give me.

How the early morning light glowed against the neighbouring buildings outside our little balcony…

How the continental breakfast on the first morning in our hotel delighted us with its variety and freshness…

And the trepidation over our first use of the Metro — how I mastered my anxiety while trying to figure out signage and colour-coding…

I took significant risks in repeatedly taking my phone out on the Metro, I know, but it was comforting to track our route using Google Maps and the RTA’s app.

So much anxiety mixed with so much joy… I wanted to be present, but I’m glad I took the time to document as much as I could. It helps, when the fatigue threatens to drag me down.

Okay. Time to tackle the next unfinished thing, and get it off my list.