Today was exhausting, as every other day this week has also been. I am bone tired, and yet don't want to go to sleep early in the evening because I want to feel something other than drudgery and frustration. I want to feel good about something, anything.
These days when I wake up in the morning instead of feeling the promise of what-could-be in the new day, I feel something like dread. What is going to be different about today than yesterday? Vaccuuming? Sewing? Watching a movie? I'm not looking forward to my future, whatever it may be. And I'm too exhausted to be good company to my friends who want to reach out to me. Nothing's enjoyable.
Could this be depression? A new facet of grief?
Maybe reading a few more mystery books will help.