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I’ve gotten to the point where I am constantly weary.

I’m not exactly depressed, mind you. I wake up everyday without fear. I don’t have any suicidal inclinations whatsoever. I can laugh. I have an appetite. I can make important phone calls and (half-assededly) pay the bills enough to avoid shut-offs.

I’m just weary as fucking hell.

Weary: adjective
The feeling or showing of tiredness, especially as a result of excessive exertion or lack of sleep. Physically and/or mentally exhausted.

Yes, my body and mind are weary, but so is my soul, if that makes any sense.

I feel like I am up to bat in the great baseball game of life, constantly swinging at everyone’s curve balls.

My daughter hates her job. *Swing*

My mom feels like utter shit again today. *Swing*

My husband has some sort of new thing to complain about. *Swing*

My best friend is really depressed and sad again. *Swing*

My dog vomited on the carpet. *Swing*

Our car tire is flat, there goes the money that I’ve saved this month from quitting smoking. *Swing*

(You see where I am going with this, I hope. I’m too weary to explain myself more.)

It seems that each new day brings numerous fresh hells to contend with and all I want is some peace.

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Somebody buy me this.

And me being me, I feel like I need to fix everything for everybody because I am an ultra sensitive empath.

Get a new job then, honey.Β 

I’m sorry ma, I wish that I had a magic wand. I hope this new doctor finally fucking helps you.

I’m sorry, dear. Blah, blah?

I’m sorry, I hate depression and being sad sucks ass. I totally get it.

Gross. Where’s the paper towels?Β 

Well, we need new tires, so here’s the money. Sigh. Oh well.Β 


 

I’m always so concerned about becoming addicted to my pain and anti-anxiety medications. I mean, it’s everywhere you look, right? Addiction is bad, drugs are evil, withdrawal is awful. (All I really want is a bag of weed.)

So I decided to try to wean myself off of the Klonopin.

Yeah, not a good idea, you guys. My patience for bullshit started to decline. Tweaking out about small things came back with a vengeance. I found myself becoming easily irked.

When I told my mom what I had been doing, she texted me back on Words With Friends. In a nutshell, this is what she said:

“Why the hell are you doing that for? Take them, silly. You need them. You are no addict.”

My mom is always right. Well, 97.3%.

So I am back to taking one in the morning and one at night, like I’ve been doing for over a year now. I do indeed have a nervous condition or else my doctor would not be prescribing them.

Duh.


 

I need to slow down my movements. I realized this when I cut my thumb whilst chopping a head of lettuce last week. (I am happy to report that the skin flap has fallen off, just this morning.)

As some of you may recall, I was a cook in nursing homes and in daycare centers for many years before I applied for disability. My knife skills are (were) the shit. I know my way around a kitchen. Cooking was also one of my favorite things to do at home.

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I seem to have misplaced my cooking wine.

But nowadays, since I have muscle weakness from the fibro, which sadly includes my hands, cutting veggies is really difficult for me. My husband usually does the chopping and then I’ll do the rest.

My motor skills (large and small) are no longer what they were. (This might explain why I am constantly dropping things and bumping into walls.)

Plus, I get dizzy from out of nowhere, so oftentimes I have to ask my husband to take over for me.

I was chopping that damn lettuce way too fast and whack! Instant boo-boo thumb.

Thankfully, I didn’t get any blood on it. The lettuce was not contaminated with red sauce. (Thanks for the idea, Jackie.)

I need to slow my roll. What’s the use of hurrying?

No use.


 

I’ve been all around the mulberry bush in this post, so thanks for sticking with me.

One last final thing, today is my mom’s 72nd birthday. We celebrated the weekend before last, with dinner at a Mexican place and then my SIL made my ma her favorite dessert, strawberry shortcake.

She’s working today (she works 5 days a month as an RN) and her two bosses will give her a gift card, plus a cake. They have always been so good to her.

Like I always ask, what’s trending with you?

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