I’m So Tired of the Fatigue

Written by Marybeth

I’ve been angry a lot this past year. Yeah, I know – Join the club, bitch. I glance around and see it’s a big club, and there’s always room for more.

I’ve harbored so much anger that I know my body has now reached a saturation point. The headaches that plagued me for a while have dissipated. The tension in so many of my muscles has been released. What my body has done is slowly moved forward to host an overwhelming fatigue that is heavier than Kanye’s and Trump’s egos combined.

Every afternoon I have the urge to just lay down and sleep. Because I just can’t anymore.

Can not deal, nor continue to be so angry. I’ve progressed on to an utter exhaustion.

I am weary of our repulsive political shitshow.

The division is beyond comprehension. The voices of reason have been so drowned out by the extremism that I’m too fucking drained to even start a political discussion with another human at this point. Very few people listen anymore, they just spew.
Our political ads are such distortions and manipulations of fact that the zealotry on both sides of every issue deserves scorn. And throat punches. And shivs.

I am weary of our weather.

I am horribly ashamed to admit my first thought the other morning when I turned on the news and saw yet another weather forecaster standing outside in a soaked jacket with palm trees bent at disturbing angles behind him was “Who gives a shit? Another hurricane.”

Or another raging wildfire or the splitting of the polar vortex. Oh well. Our official stance now seems to be “Let’s All Just Stick Our Bloody Heads in the Sand and Drink a Fucking Mai Tai While We Chuckle at Those Nerdy Scientists.” NBD. A few more dead citizens and a couple more billion dollars of destruction. Just add it to our polluted air and water. Nothing to see here.

I am weary of old white men who seem not to have half a DNA molecule of empathy in their irritated, old bodies. Can you not for one damn second put yourself in someone else’s shoes? Can you not even imagine what it would be like to feel terrified by someone more physically powerful than you? Can you not think back to a time you suffered some type of trauma in your life and how your mind shrunk in upon itself to help you survive, and the details at the margins were quickly forgotten?

Oh, what’s that? Well, aren’t you damn lucky you don’t know what trauma feels like. Go on back to your deal making, back-slapping, shooing kids from your lawns, and enjoying your excellent healthcare coverage.

I am weary of security breaches and social media hoaxes and forgetting passwords. Tech companies, get your shit together! People, do a shred of research before you re-post garbage.

Some days I just want a lovely, old-school typewriter and cash and dealing only with people I engage with in person. Sorry, but can we bring back the (lack of) technology of 1978 for just a day?

I am weary of children being separated from their parents at our border, with little to no regard for their fragility and mental health. Early childhood trauma causes lasting, negative effects. Oh, riiiiight…. It’s not your kid, or your grandkid. Whatevs.

So, really, I just want to take a ridiculously long nap. An extended, deep-sleep snooze where I do not toss, turn or dream for a single minute – like those characters in science fiction films, clothed in cozy, white garments, who lie down in enclosed pods and wake up years later to a revolutionary and refreshed reality.

Kindly wake me up again when Planet Earth has leaders with rational intelligence, fairmindedness and understanding. When we’ve figured out how to tweak human DNA so that we all ooze empathy and compassion.

When we’ve all figured out how to disagree amicably and treat each other and our planet with respect and true concern. Where any issue regarding our fellow humans can’t be classified as a NBD.

When we treat all children like they were our very own flesh and blood.

When we use our technology for peace and health and social justice for everybody. (And passwords have been phased out forever, obvi).
But yes, I know I can’t step down into a comfy pod and wake up again when the world is a much better place. My slumber fantasy must remain purely fantastical.

I will let this phase of psychological exhaustion pass and then pick myself, dust off the flecks of dried bullshit, drink an obscene amount of caffeine and get back to dealing with it all.

I’ll be emailing and calling and talking and listening and donating and voting.

And I hope you will be too.

About the author

Marybeth

Marybeth, or “MB” as her squad calls her, is breathing a sigh of relief as a new empty-nester Mom of 2 college kids. Cheers to less cooking, less laundry, more pics of her dog and more happy hours. With a Master of Public Health, she silently judges those who don’t use hand sanitizer or sneeze into their elbows. She resides in the desert Southwest with her IV drip of iced coffee, daydreaming about the beach. Her cogitations can also be found on the Scottsdale Moms Blog and Grown and Flown sites. Follow her on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter.

Leave a Comment

CommentLuv badge

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.