Je Suis Très Fatiguée

I recently asked why I am writing. I am stuck between a world of understanding and clarity but my emotions don't fit. The writing has been a way to escape this clash because despite understanding, it doesn't really change how I feel. I wonder why the two can't just be in sync, create a perfect harmony. The understanding sometimes feels like a burden. I just want to be immature and act out but I can't, because I understand.

Je suis très fatiguée.

I can't get a break. Life seems to be a project, a job. I can't just live. When did I stop living? If I miss a phone call we are fucked. If I miss an email we are fucked. If I miss a doctor's appointment we are fucked. A bill, we are fucked. And yet I am a stay at home mum who just… stays at home.

Je suis très fatiguée.

Mum. Mum. Mum. Where are you? I wish I could go back and be with you. In the kitchen telling meaningless stories. Sharing philosophical ideas, eating arrow root or potatoes. Laughing with you. In our home where everything was just safe and quiet, the home I kept trying to run away from because your love was so suffocating. Oh how ungrateful I was.

Je suis très fatiguée.

I am mum now. I am supposed to be exactly like you. But I am so tired. I wonder how the fuck you did this with so much grace. Adulting is so tough and I have to show up for every minute of it. I am patching it up with prayers in between because that's what keeps me going. I remember when you used to pray next to my bed and I would not even close my eyes because apparently I was an atheist. Now the lord is my shepherd and he is walking along with me.

Je suis très fatiguée.

I am not going to finish this with meaning. There is no meaning today. I am just tired.

JE SUIS TRÈS FATIGUÉE.