I've been trying so hard to get things done.
I've been trying so hard, to ignore the reason I'm having to do them.
Neither one is going easily.
On Friday, since I didn't have to work, I decided to go to the tag place and get the title to my husband's pick up changed over to my name so that I could get the insurance changed. It started out as a half hour wait, that went to fifty-five, that went to seven, that went back to fifteen. I sat there for so long that even though I had a lovely conversation with the lady beside me, I began to get sleepy. When my number was finally called, it took all of five minutes to sign three papers and get the new registration. She told me the title would come in a couple of weeks. An hour sitting for five minutes work. But it got done. It wasn't so difficult with the insurance company, when I called and let them know I had gotten the title changed she told me that she could and would handle everything for me.
I had a couple of bills to get paid and a few other errands to run. By the time I got them finished, I did not have time to go to the cable company and get the bill changed over to my name. Yes, I could do that over the phone, but I'm needing to talk with them about either getting someone out to the house to fix the mess that their guy left, or get them to sell me enough cable that James can fix it for me. So that, I can actually watch tv in here should I take a notion I want to waste some time and zone out for a while. I decided that since they were open for a while on Saturday I would talk James into going with me, since he knew where the place was and I didn't. The problem arose when James came in from work and told me he had to work Saturday.
I figured I'd probably have to go myself. I didn't try to go early because someone brought me some flowers from their garden. We visited for a while and as we chatted, James came in. He was done for the day. I talked him into going with me by promising that I wouldn't ask him to stop anywhere else but to get gas for the car. When we arrived, the place was packed. James refused to wait as he told me they were incredibly slow and we would be there forever. So I turned and left the building, disappointed, frustrated, angry, tired.
I was tired. I was tired of not being able to watch television if I chose. I was tired of fighting, I was tired of not getting things done. I was tired of the struggle to get past the reason I was having to do all of this to begin with. I was tired of pretending I was fine, that when anyone and everyone asked how I was, my response has been, "I'm okay." I'm not, not always.
When people tell me they are praying for me, I'm very glad. I need them, I covet them, I appreciate them more than those who are praying know. I cling to my faith, I cling to the cross. I pray, at times constantly.
But I'm tired.
I was told that I am a strong woman. I was told I am an intelligent woman. I was told that I have accomplished a lot in a short amount of time. I was told, that I would get through this.
But I'm tired.
I'm tired of worrying. I'm tired of struggling. I'm tired of wondering. I'm tired of trying to find ways to stay so busy as to forget or pretend that none of this is real.
I have been given flowers, I have spent so much time working in, around and with my flowers, trying to stay busy. Trying to stay occupied. Trying to work until I am too tired to think.
Yet, when everything slows and there is nothing else to do for the moment, the memories invade my fragile peace. I remember why I'm doing all of this. I remember, what has happened, and what is still waiting to be done. I want to find a dark corner to hide in, I want to be able to shove everything under the bed and hope it goes away. When everything else slows, my mind goes into over drive, my heart goes off the deep end and my tears linger, just on the edge, yet refusing to fall.
I'm tired, but I'm not giving up or giving in. I am strong and I will get this done, even with the frustrations, the anger, the pain. I will press forward, I will have faith and I will finish this.