Skip to main content

on exhaustion

this blog is not about my kids (gasp!). or, not exactly, though they are such a force that it seems everything in my universe is colored by my experiences with them.

it's about how we're all so tired. more precisely, it's about how we keep talking about how we're all so tired.

in the past several days i've seen a number of articles cross my feed on the topic of "why millennials are so tired," (almost ignored that one as i don't identify as a millennial) or "the fetishization of tiredness" or "the cult of exhaustion" ... i'm not linking any of them, as i haven't found the articles themselves to be particularly interesting or insightful.  but it did make me stop and think about how true this is about my life, and probably yours.

someone asks how you are, and you say, "i'm good, but i'm exhausted." you hear someone with "less" on their plate than you say they're tired, and you think (and maybe even say - but please shut your mouth), "you think YOU'VE got it bad? you don't even KNOW tired."

and it's true, all of it. i'm fucking tired. you're fucking tired. we do too much with too little, we don't care for ourselves, we don't sleep enough and we don't do sleep right. we don't feed our bodies right, we don't work our bodies enough. we live in a political culture that is divisive and a news culture that is always on, always disastrous, and always in your face. we're tired.

but we're also a lot of other things. right now, how are you? me, i'm kinda excited about a project i'm about to wrap up, super relieved that i got the kids to daycare without yelling at them, a little anxious about an uptick in undesirable behaviors in john, really looking forward to my trip to maryland at the end of next week, and hungry because i haven't eaten my breakfast yet and am not in love with any of my current options. i'm probably a bunch of other stuff too.

so why, why oh why, if you asked me how i am, would i wear my exhaustion as a badge of honor and say, "man, i'm tired?"

i have a proposal. let's take it on faith that we are all tired. therefore, it is no longer news. the next time you find yourself about to tell someone you're tired, tell them something else you are instead. i suspect it will make for a much more interesting and connecting conversation -- even if you stick with small talk and don't go deep.

"hey, man, how are you?" someone might say.

and you might say, "you know, i'm totally bummed about how [insert recently binged tv show] ended, so i'm rewriting it in my brain. how 'bout you?"

and they might say, "oh, i haven't watched that -- was it good?"

and then you'll have a conversation.

instead of ...

"hey, man, how are you?"

"you know, i'm so tired."

"oh, me too."

the end.

booooooooorrrrrrring.

i'm tired of telling you i'm tired, and tired of you telling me you're tired*, and tired of hearing about everybody's tiredness as if it was the defining characteristic of their existence. (guilty as charged.)

* if you have some extenuating circumstance where your tiredness really IS a defining characteristic (including but not limited to a newborn, big disruptive life change, invasive medical treatment, etc) by all means tell me. but if you're tired because life ... maybe be a little more interesting. i promise i will try as well.


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

on lullabies

i am not a singer. if you've sat behind me in church, you know this to be true. (and i'm sorry.) a musician, yes. a singer no. and yet i find myself singing to john almost nonstop. and the beauty is, he seems to actually like it! (there's no accounting for taste. he also thinks i'm the most beautiful woman in the world. i'm no ogre, but i'm certainly not winning any beauty contests outside of my son's brain!) and actually, i've written some lullabies for john that are pretty nice. and it made me think: did your parents sing to you? do you remember what they sang, and better yet, if you have kids, do you sing the same songs to them? reply in the comments!

i'm furberizing my baby

ok, let's get this straight right off the bat: i don't know if i am literally following dr. furber's methods of sleep training. there are so many versions out there. but saying we're furberizing john is WAY more fun than saying that i'm letting him cry his little lungs out in an attempt to teach him to sleep on his own. it's night two of our efforts. he went right to sleep last night, which was great. and he slept for 5.25 hours (!!!!) before waking up at 2:30 a.m. when he woke up crying, i let him cry for 5 minutes before going in to soothe him. (the soothing barely works at all, by the way, but it's what i'm supposed to do ...) then i let him cry for 10 more minutes before going in to soothe him again. next on the agenda was a 15 minute stretch of crying - but he fell asleep after 8 minutes. so a sum total of 22 minutes of crying. not too bad for night two. i've heard night three can be the worst ... so we'll hold on to our hats tonight. mean

home

annapolis rock  1988 thirty years ago, my family moved from denton, tx, to a tiny rural town in the mountains of maryland. i remember being sad as we sold our things (we were packing everything into two old cars to drive north) and actually crying over the sale of our washing machine. transition does strange things to kids' emotions. yet i remember arriving, excited, into this strange green mountainous place, and i remember even more anticipation as we found a home ("the old taylor place") and got ready for school to start at smithsburg elementary. third grade -- the same grade john starts this school year. i remember meeting my first friend on a dusty dirt road - the "alley" that ran behind the high school tennis courts and athletic fields from our home just at the town's outskirts to her home just outside downtown. (if you've never known a small town downtown, that's probably hard to envision). it was an amazing place to be a child. 199