It's not even noon and I've been up for almost 6 hours. That's right. The alarm went off at 4:50 even though I didn't have to go to work today. It's week 1, day 2 of my return to Jillian Michaels. Plus, I have to clock some road miles because I was stupid enough to sign up for another half marathon in July. Somehow the morning creeps up on me, and I just feel so unprepared to end my slumber.
My husband requires fewer hours of sleep than I do, so when I go to bed at 9:00 PM, he goes downstairs to binge on Grim or--his latest fascination--Spartacus. Usually I get up at least once a night to pee, and I most often hear him crawl into bed some time after midnight. He lovingly cuddles up and tries to hold me, and I get annoyed because now I'm awake. And I have to pee. And I have to wake in less than five hours. My sleep is interrupted, and I probably should have just joined him on the couch to veg out in front of the tube.
I can't remember the last time I sat in front of the TV. Well, I can. It was a few weeks ago for the season finale of Once Upon a Time.
I'm really not happy with the cliff hanger they threw in on that last episode. How can Regina be expected to keep on the path of goodness when at the moment she is able to carry her heart with her, coincidence comes and rips it out? That's what life does, though, doesn't it? Camus understood the absurdity of man's existence--that we continue to hope in spite of life kicking us in the balls all the time.
Days like today--rather weeks like the past few I have had--I feel the struggle of being human--the fight to find the strength to endure through the tedious and seemingly fruitless agony of forging ahead. I'm flipping exhausted, and this damn boulder is bulldozing over me at full speed, rolling back down toward the bottom of the hill. Fuck. Are you shitting me? I have to chase that piece of shit down the mountain again? I was so close to the top!
I'm afraid I don't have the strength, or perhaps the inclination, so I close my eyes and tumble down trailing behind the stupid rock. When I hit the bottom, I lie there, motionless, and I rest for a while. I dream of Maya and Malala and the nearly 300 who have truly hit rock bottom, and I know that my woes are nothing I can not bear. I hear the voice from the Sassy Gay Friend videos mocking me, "you're a stupid bitch." It's true. Sometimes you just need a good chat with a friend to know that you are a decent--no a good person--and that everything is going to be ok.
And when I open my eyes, there are my babies and all whom I love and my hope that I am not as terrible as I have felt. That boulder looks like a pebble in comparison to those that weigh against other human beings. Really, when I put things in perspective, I am ok. I am more than ok. I am refreshed, filled with the belief that I will make it up that hill. I'm ready to rock on!