Fatigue, that is. It’s like American Express. It’s everywhere you want to be.
I did a sleep study last week to try to nail down why I am so stinking tired. (They didn’t find anything, by the way, but that’s a different post.) During the course of my week, I found that fatigue has a way of creeping into seemingly innocent conversations.
After one of my torture naps, the guy came in and asked if I slept, if I dreamed (dreamt?), and if I remembered my dream. Yes, yes, and of course. My dream was about fly fishing. We continued to chat about fishing- he grew up in Montana and loves to fish. I said I really like to, but I don’t go as often as I’d like, especially ice fishing.
That’s when it hit me. Why don’t I go fishing very often? I’m too tired. My dad and brother get up early (like 7) to go, and I am just too stinking tired to go, or I know it will ruin my day and possibly a few days. I just can’t afford it. That fishing spoon, though I love it, is not one I can afford to spend.
Even when I’m not talking about Louie, thinking about him, or explaining him to someone, he crops up in conversations. He is the reason I do what I do, even more than I thought.
This begs the question- to what extent to I let him dictate my life? Does me having more control make him more upset? At what point is it worth it to fight with him?
