I am feeling weary, oh so weary. It goes into my bones.

Words such as this too shall pass, a bridge over troubled water, please take care of yourself not too helpful right now.

My body feels it, and I understand. A year of intense caregiving and managing the medical system can do this.

Many of my friends, my neighbors, and you, may be feeling this weariness too.  

I did my meditation this morning, which gave a temporary reprieve. I listened to Jospeh Goldstein’s reminder that there continues to be a massive population of women who continue to walk many miles to get water.

I feel gratitude I can turn on the faucet, and it is good to be reminded to not take this for granted, but I am still weary. I have a feeling the women who carry water must feel weary at times too.

I had to miss the wake of a long-time friend last night, a friend who seemingly acted like he never felt weary. He was always the struggling artist (with a small sign painting business to keep the wolves at bay) with a bonhomie that was infectious. He left his mark here, including several public murals. His parties reflected this story, with a motley group of new and old friends. Since he was born and raised here, his family having immigrated to Las Vegas from Mexico in 1904, he pretty much knew everyone, from back when Las Vegas was much smaller and cozier. I told myself he would understand why I could not attend this last party. He had come to accept what was happening. Unfortunately, I am trying to recover from a stress related migraine that hit me this past Monday. I have not had a serious migraine attack in years. I heard from a friend this morning that the wake was awesome, with a Mariachi band and the sharing of stories.

I am not complaining, merely observing. Even if we try to distract, sometimes even if we attempt to reframe, even if put a smile on, our bodies know our state, our bodies will not lie. Sometimes the sunny side of the street is overtaken by shade.

I have overcome trauma, adversities and losses over the years, as have you. As we have at the societal level. I think about my grandparents and their generation coming of age during and after World War one, then enduring the Depression, then World War Two. The post war years were not perfect, but they must have felt such relief for them, and for my parents and their generation. Changes were coming soon. But I understand that having a sense of normalcy in having a family, a job and buying a vet financed house was enough. Of course, the chance for this prosperity was not something experienced by everyone, and repair work through political and cultural change needed to be done.  But that is an ongoing project, like building a sandcastle by the waves that is constantly under threat. I am pretty sure that most people want these same things that give a sense of security, belonging and a measure of optimism.

Weariness is often something that comes after a long, drawn-out battle, as any soldier feels. It comes when you are too tired to be angry, anxious, or fearful.  There is a longing underneath, but it is quieted down. It can feel like exhaustion, boredom, tedium, and disaffection according to a quick Google search. The energy is drained, and you lack spark. You feel dimmed. You may feel like you are trudging through mud or walking up a steep hill and the top edge looks really far.

One of my long-time friends, a member of our friend group, decided to call the other night, instead of participating in our group text. It was a tonic. She has one of those laughs that should be bottled or recorded as a morning wake up. We were both astonished at how much time has gone by, and we agreed we don’t look any older. Since she and most of our friends are actor. We thought a 70’s era improv skit about old ladies in colorful muumuus drinking wine might be good for a laugh. Maybe they are visited by aliens who offer a make over.  Or they decide to join a hippie commune. (I have been a copywriter, so my brain tends to come up with weird ideas).  

Even though I am a therapist I don’t really have any solid advice about this. I often write about resiliency, capacity, mindfulness and acceptance. Weary is not really depression or anxiety but simply a very tired state, rubbing up against raw reality.

As I so often write nature retreats for rest.  Because of my husband’s illness his beloved pepper plants (including the jalapenos) took a turn for the worse after a couple of years of doing well.  They are planted in their own mobile standing height container, with their own faucet hooked watering system that had apparently quit working. (The rest of our plants and trees are doing well, on an automated system). One of the plants is still producing but the leaves are dead. The other one is growing some fresh green leaves but no peppers.  He had never done much gardening, but he was proud of his pepper crop. Obviously insufficient water led to their near death. I am tending to them now with a simple sprayer. If I can get them to fall through our hot desert summer, then I think they will recover. His pepper plants seem to be a perfect reflection of our life now. Tired but hanging in there.   

If I can offer a bit of optimism about being sick and tired of things, being weary can be a path to eventual renewal. So often wars end this way. An increase in fighting (and bombs) may come out of frustration and weariness, then comes a willingness to lay down arms, and create new alliances and ideas. After all, crisis and conflict take a lot of sustained energy and focus.

Not everything in life works out the way we want, obviously. But that is beside the point. My weariness, our weariness is a response to what is happening. It may be a precursor to change. Life is experiential, an experiment of trial and error, or here’s a wild idea, learning from the past.

The thing that keeps the women going for water is the basic need for water, to live. It is no different than the elephants searching for water during the summer drought after the spring rains recede.  So, I guess it’s about keeping on. I am looking forward to the next phone call from my friend.