Why Am I So Tired?
Is it because I’m 64 years old?
No, that can’t be it because I’m only 64 years old. That’s nothing…64 is the new 50 and everyone knows 50 is the new 40. So that can’t be it. Angelo thinks I should nap every day like he does, but he’s older than me and he probably needs it. Besides, I try to nap and I can’t. Also, in the last two years, I’ve lost 40 pounds and joined a gym. To add insult to injury, Angelo bought a home rowing machine, so now when I beg off pulling on my exercise gear and driving the quarter mile to our gym because it’s my “day off,” I can’t. Because there’s a damn rower right in the house! Turns out, I’m not in bad shape for once in my life, so no…that can’t be it.
Is it because I have Covid?
No, because I don’t . . .anymore. I did get it, after being quadrupled vaxxed and masked in public and avoided large gatherings and pretty much kept to myself for the last year. The day before I found out I had been exposed, I was visiting a friend I hadn’t seen since the previous summer, so I had to tell her she was now potentially exposed, which sucks. I felt such negative feelings about getting Covid, I surprised even myself. Covid appears to have the curious side effect of guilt, because it felt really bad that after such caution, I caught the virus that has killed over a million people in the US alone. Do I have that long-haul thing? I barely felt sick at all during my illness and convalescence. It was more like I had bad allergies. Oh wait, if it’s not Covid . . .
Could it be allergies?
For years I’ve been explaining to anyone within earshot that “I don’t have allergies!” and yet on a pretty regular basis, I start sneezing, my eyes get itchy and my nose runs. It happens throughout the year, but especially during the so-called allergy seasons, which basically occur all year ‘round anyway. As I’ve gotten older (64, if you forgot) my sneezes have become so intense to the point of having to steady myself if I’m walking from one room to the next looking for tissues. I also have to remember to stop walking from one room to the next if I begin sneezing because it’s risky to be in motion and not crossing my legs, particularly if I’ve just finished a cup of coffee . . . if you know what I mean. The whole sneezing-not peeing situation takes a lot of effort, I must say, so it could be that. Or maybe it’s . . .
Job hunting when I should be job-leaving?
Looking for work just when all your friends are Swedish death cleaning is exhausting. I’m actually fine with working—as a writer, I can’t imagine not always writing—it’s work I love. I love teaching, too, but as an adjunct I could use a little more income for my daily needs such as stupid exercise gear and bulk shipments of tissues. One thing I’ve found as job candidate who is probably older than most other candidates by at least 20 years is just that: I’m much older and I don’t think I’m seen as a viable potential employee anymore. Not that anyone is saying that…but I’m pretty sure there is some ageism involved. Which doesn’t seem fair, since I probably work twice as hard as the other candidates to prepare as I have to write everything down—even the salient points about how it seems as though the job description was developed based on my past work history. Job-hunting belongs to those who can remember to actually extol their skills and experiences and not the ones who need a nap after an interview.
Or maybe, it’s everything.
When we get older, it is expected that we’ll encounter and have to deal with more—things. Those life-changing events that require time, care and reflection to get through. As more of these events occur: divorces, deaths, caring for elders, pandemics, retirement (for some) the more we have to process and it’s likely we don’t get through one upheaval before the next one shows up. It’s like being in advancing rounds of a game show…your responsibility is the same, but the time you have to complete it is shorter. It’s like I’m in the lightning round every day. No wonder I’m so tired.
But, as they say, with great exhaustion comes great appreciation. I’m in a place where I’ve never appreciated what I have so deeply. I can move about easily—if I’m not sneezing—and I spend time with my children and my friends pretty much whenever I want to. When I’m frustrated, sad and at my limit, I have a support network of friends and family as close as a text.
Maybe I’ll just learn to nap.