Tag Archives: exhaustion

Show Me How to Let Go

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The resistance rises up.
Wanting to be more energized, less tired.
Wanting to feel more confident, less worried.
Wanting to feel more supported, less alone.
Wanting to feel more peaceful, less stressed.
On the heels of the resistance, stories…
Stories about injustice, mistreatment,
a wish for vindication, retribution.
I can feel my body contract.
I know this thinking isn’t healthy
and I feel powerless to stop it.
I know I need to pray,
and even this evokes anger
and the question
Why do I have to try so hard?
I guess I haven’t really surrendered yet.
I guess I’m still trying to control the moment.
I want to let go.
Lord God, show me how to let go.

Let Yourself Heal

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I’ve had this lingering cold since September,
finally went to the doctor yesterday;
she wants me to squirt stuff up my nose,
gargle with salt water, and rest.
I’m tired of feeling draggy,
tired of living surrounded by boxes,
tired of being tired.
So today, I rested.
And it’s nuts what the voices in my head tell me.
Don’t be lazy.
It’s not so bad.
Look at your house! It’s deplorable.
You should be ashamed of yourself!

My overworking made me sick.
And now I’m trying to get better…
but somehow I’m not allowed
to do the things that will help me get better?
Another voice speaks.
Discern the voice of truth.
Listen a little more deeply.
Hear the song of being.
Let yourself heal.

Howling

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So tired.
Kids came back today,
and it took all my energy
to help with homework,
make dinner,
and get them to bed.
(And tidy and take the trash out
and moderate arguments
and put them back in bed five times.)
I want…
I want to cry out like a wolf,
I want to be heard by other single parents everywhere.
I want them to respond to my cries, 
my messy wolf pack,
saying You aren’t alone.
I hear you.
I feel this way too.

Howling in the dark together
raising a ruckus
strength in numbers
Can we change this heaviness together?
I don’t know.
I’ll just keep howling 
until I can sink into sleep. 

I Rest

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Slowing down, taking time…
Body run down
says Stop. Rest.
I listen.
I rest as much as I can
in between classes.
It would be so easy to blame.
To go back into victim mode
and complain about the upheaval.
But that’s not congruent with who I am.
Who I am is strong.
Who I am is loving.
Who I am is resourceful, creative, inspired.
Who I am is kind.
So instead of looking out and blaming,
I look in and ask,
What can be done now?
My body says Rest.
I listen. I rest.

I’ll Listen to that One

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When I’ve been pushing and pushing and pushing,

hustling,

going everywhere,

doing everything,

bouncing around like a ping-pong ball,

At some point my body says

Stop.

I’ve reached that point.

My body is saying

Stop. Slow Down. Pause. Rest.

And yet I keep going.

It’s catching up with me.

I feel exhausted.

I want to rest,

but the children need to eat breakfast

and get on the school bus.

I drag myself out of bed;

I’m praying

God be with me. Have mercy. God be with me.

The doomsday prophet in my head says

It will always be like this.

The child in my head says

This isn’t fair.

My body keeps repeating

Stop. Stop. Stop.

It’s getting louder.

And I’m wondering when I’ll get the hang

of single parenting, really.

Some other voice says

Just one day at a time, darling,

just one step at a time.

I think I’ll listen to that voice.

Still More Stuff

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Stuff, stuff and more stuff!
There is no end to the stuff!
Kids’ stuff
My stuff
House stuff
Stuff that was left behind
when he walked away from our life together,
and now I get to sort through all of it.
Years of the content I created as a yoga teacher,
in binders, in bins.
Bins of fabric and yarn.
Art supplies.
Books, books and more books.
Clothes and shoes.
Garden stuff…
Random bits of this and that…
Plus the household stuff.
Is there no end?
I’m am so exhausted.
But there is still more stuff.

Good and Evil

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I began the day in prayer,
turning it over,
asking God for guidance.
I felt good, knowing
everything would be ok.
The morning sun
gilded every leaf on the trees outside my window
and the autumn sky was a powdery blue
so soft it nearly broke my heart.
I moved and moved and moved more stuff
from my old house into my new.
I worked and worked and worked.
By evening my mind was worn,
my temper was hot
and I didn’t want to do one more thing for anybody.
Then I wondered if the struggle between good and evil,
darkness and light,
was really a stuggle between
the fresh mind of a person newly awakened
and the tired mind of a person ready for sleep…