Fatigue. Fatigue. Fatigue. Fatigue. Fatigue.
God, how I hate that word. Somewhere around this time yesterday fatigue jumped around the corner with a baseball bat and hit me right in the face. Before I even knew what hit me, I was unable to form a single coherent thought. I was reading a fanfic someone sent me over Skype and all of a sudden it was like all the words were just everywhere. They had no connection with one another. They were just there. And I was unable to put them together and understand what they were saying. I know that’s not rare for fanfiction to do this, but this was a piece that was actually written with some coherency to it.
Then I realized it wasn’t just the words on the page, there were things floating around my mind loosely. Words, images, things… Thoughts. Those things. I was trying to juggle them long enough to excuse myself and lie down somewhere that didn’t include my face on top of the keyboard.
It was a success, I managed to lie down for a bit, but it didn’t last. Suddenly my mind was racing along an uncomfortable line of thought. For a while it got bad enough for me to forget how exhausted I felt only a few minutes ago, so I decided to go for a walk, hoping the fresh air and exercise would drive away the thoughts.
It didn’t. And while outside I suddenly remember how exhausted I felt, the walk only made it that much worse. Then the walk back made it even worse. By the time I got back home I was completely unraveled and wrecked. My mind was going along a dangerous red-line of panic.
It took a while before I managed to fight it down again. It took a very long while, but I somehow did it.
Then I watched A Serious Man.
It was like a finishing blow to the effects already in progress. I spent the rest of the night awake, listening to the rain and the wind. Didn’t get a single moment’s sleep.
The worst thing is that it’s not the first time that this has happened to me. I highly doubt that it’ll be the last time. I never really pay attention to how tired I am, never really let go of myself, not really. I may whine and bitch and moan and complain a lot online, but it’s generally just the tip of the iceberg. It never has anything to do with what I’m actually stuck with. It’s never what I actually want to whine or bitch or moan or complain about. Most of the time, I don’t even know what it is until it’s too late. Part of the problem is that I don’t want to allow myself to have problems with certain things. That I don’t want to allow myself to be angry, upset, annoyed, frustrated, or even happy about certain things because of this belief it’s wrong to feel those ways about certain things. Then I got stuck about it without even realize it.
In the same kind of way, and this is going to sound incredibly pathetic and stupid, I know, I’m not able to cry. I’ll feel like it. I’ll want to do it. I can feel it start. And then I yawn and feeling edges away. At least, just barely. The feeling lingers around, confused. It’ll try to come back every now and again, and every time it does, I yawn. It’s a stupid reflex I’ve built up as a kid to hide the fact I was crying by pretending to yawn. If I wanted had to cry and didn’t want others to know, I’d fight back the tears and pretend to yawn when a few made their way out anyway. Years later it’s almost irreversably linked with yawning and I’m now unable to actually cry. It might sound good, now I’m not a sissy boy who cries. But it really isn’t, it just leads to a lot of extra frustration at the fact I can’t do anything about some things. I can’t even cry about them.
I still haven’t completely come back from whatever it was that hit me yesterday. I’m feeling good enough to actually think coherently again. Good enough to write about it while it still matters too me. But I can feel that whatever it was, it hasn’t left my system yet. I’m stuck on it somehow. There’s something I probably should have done, something I probably should have let myself feel, something I probably should have allowed myself to think about… But whatever it is, I don’t know.