“You look exhausted,” my husband tells me when he gets home from work. He said the same thing this morning, and will say it again at least seven more times before the day is through.
“I am exhausted,” I say. “That’s why I look it.” And I repeat this every single time he tells me later, though sometimes I add in, “I know!” or “It doesn’t help to keep telling me I look exhausted you know.” Or something else along those lines.
See, I really am exhausted. Like my ears have a constant whooshing sound, it’s hard to concentrate, I used to see colored spots in me line of vision and now my eyeballs just hurt. I am TIRED. And there is nothing I can do about it, because my body hates me.
I am childless and while I work fulltime, write fulltime, and take care of a household, my day starts when I say it does, which is a luxury most people do not have. And did I mention I am childless? So, I can sleep in. No one is saying I can’t. And I want to sleep in – oh how I want to sleep in! But despite my body being so tired and obviously suffering from fatigue, it refuses to sleep in!
