Weary

Sometimes, I wake up in the morning, and I already feel weary. I lie in bed, watching the day's tasks dance through my mind, and I cower. How can I possibly face each one of those, feeling like I feel right now? Maybe I should stay in bed. And I do. For half an hour, maybe an hour. But lying in bed makes my back ache and my neck and shoulders hurt. I know that a little yoga will feel good. Can I at least tackle that? Of course, I get started, and like a boulder rolling downhill, the tasks come at me and I get them done somehow.

This disease is like an abusive boyfriend, and I'm the stupid girl who is crazy enough to stick with him. I walk around on eggshells, afraid to do anything to piss it off. Then, when it hits, I blame myself. I shouldn't have walked to the mailbox today. I should have had the kids help me bring in the groceries. Why did I do that extra load of laundry? I shouldn't have lingered fifteen minutes after my show was finished before going to bed. Normal things that normal people take for granted, and they can't believe the consequences are so severe. It's not right, they think. Why don't I just snap out of it, get over it?

Ah, they just don't understand. I would leave him if I could. Really, I'm not getting some kind of sick pleasure out of this. I would leave in a heartbeat! I just don't know how.