I feel this urge to write. To just blather on and on with no point and no end. Maybe it is because I hardly ever write anymore. Not on this blog, not in a journal, not an email to a friend. And I don't take pictures. And I can't remember the last book I read AND finished. And I don't want to create anything...not a scrapbook page, not a new recipe, not a new anything. Exercise? Forget it - don't want to do that either. Somewhere in these last few months I've started cutting myself off. Not on purpose mind you! Just a side effect of letting life get too busy, letting the little things get too big. Losing sight of my priorities. And the result? A slow erosion of the things that keep me inspired, joyful, and let's face it, sane.
And now my well is dry. Really dry. What's the cliché? Bone dry? Yup, that's me. Bone dry. Not an ounce of energy left in my cells for anything.
I hate it.
I hate that I can't seem to recognize that I'm headed toward burn out until I'm there. I hate that when I crash, I have trouble picking myself up again. I hate how I know exactly what I need to start doing to start pulling myself out of the fog, but the very idea of doing it is so exhausting that I don't want to start. I hate that I start to think, "Hey, its sucks being right here where I am, but it'd be a heck of a lot easier to just stay here then do the work to get moving again."
Right now, I especially hate that burn out has chosen RIGHT NOW to strike. Right now when Thanksgiving is days away, and I have a dinner to prepare. Right now when Christmas is fast approaching and there is just so much to do. Right now when I need to be more focused than ever on my marriage and my family. Right now when above all, I need to be focused on God because I know that I can't pull any of this off on my own.
But I am just so tired. Too tired to make a plan; too tired to make a list. Too tired.
