Did you hear that? It came from deep inside, a long, gut-emptying exhale, like the last few gusts of wind at the end of a blustery summer storm. That’s what I sound like tonight. I’m tired. I’ve had some kind of commitment every weekend since Labour Day. I’ve ignored my new set of rules, the ones where I minimize commitments, stay close to home and keep a low profile. The ones where I acknowledge my triggers and honour them.I’ve allowed myself to be swept away like the fallen leaves, tossed and whipped about carelessly . This fall has been full, happy, but too much.
I’m tired again. Very tired. But not in a bad way tired, not the kind of tired that leaves my heart racing and overwhelmed, but the kind of tired that whispers gently but firmly, slow down or this will get out of control.
It’s time. It’s time to honour these shorter days with rest, quiet and solitude. I’m craving it. I’ve lost my centre, and I’m starting to feel it. It’s licking at old wounds, showing their dark and uncomfortable edges. There is a gentle tug inside myself and it’s keeping me from finding my balance.
Even though I knew this season of social obligations would be long, anticipated that I would reach the end and feel spent, I’ve allowed myself to just live it without consideration or worry for how I’d feel when it was over. I’ve enjoyed the time spent nurturing new friendships and a budding neighbourhood community of families, I’ve thrown myself into my own family and all the fall activities we enjoy and, I’ve focused intensely on several important and exciting projects at work.
I’ve been busy. Too busy. I’ve lost my footing, slipped just a bit.
And now I’m tired. But I recognize it now, where only a year ago I couldn’t, when before I would push and push and leave myself unable to cope. Tonight I’m exhaling. I’m exhaling because I’ve reached my limit. My healthy limit. And I know, if I push it anymore, it will no longer be healthy.
So I’m sinking into the shorter days, anticipating the comforting embrace of longer nights spent cuddling on the couch and curled up in flannel sheets with a good book. I want to reconnect with myself, my writing, with all of you. I need to do this, to pull myself back together.
To find my centre again.