Complete, utter, total, through-and-through fatigue. Eyes, bones, brain, muscles, even my hair seems exhausted. Seven days now, and I cannot figure it out, although I have theories.
In the beginning, starting last Friday evening, it simply felt like tiredness, weariness, although oddly enough, I woke up in bed that morning feeling as if I had already drank a pot of coffee. That feeling wore off by day’s end. The tiredness was not an entirely foreign feeling; most often in the past, it was related to my menstrual cycle. That, however, is a thing of the past, although maybe it was still a hormonal cycle of some sort. I assumed it would pass by the next morning.
Wrong. I fought the fatigue all last weekend. I struggled, but managed, to accomplish the absolute necessary items on my to-do list, including installing a closet rod, which is a hilarious story, to be told some other time. By Sunday night, I was completely spent, even though at no time whatsoever over the entire weekend had I actually felt capable of anything more than putting one foot in front of the other, with or without a mop, a dishrag, an oven mitt, a wrench or a drill in my hands. I assumed it was just the “universe” robbing me of a pleasant weekend experience. I was actually looking forward to the work-week, expecting that my carved-in-concrete routine would put me back on track.
Monday at work sucked. And there was rain in the forecast, so after work I had to get the lawn mowed – again! (That chore was way more than I had been capable of over the weekend.) After a 1-hour-plus, full-body workout, I was halfway done. To be continued Tuesday.
Tuesday at work sucked. I still felt completely drained, barely able to function. No other symptoms of illness…just utter fatigue. Going home sick was not an option, because I was swamped. After work, I persevered and completed the lawn after another 1-1/2 hour “get-‘er-done” mind-over-matter marathon. And it felt like I had run a marathon. There was more work to do, but for now, it was “good enough,” a really hard concept for me to embrace with my OCD perfectionism attitude.
Wednesday at work really sucked. (Let me say here that, other than the occasional everybody-has-‘em “bad” day, my job never really sucks, especially when compared to the previous 10 years at Walmart.) The reason Wednesday was worse than usual is a story for another time. Suffice to say I had to go in to work 2 hours early (because of a monthly appointment my boss has, which is the gist of the other story), which necessitated me getting up at 5 a.m. instead of 7 a.m. Now, on a normal day, I start work at 10 a.m. and I get up a full 3 hours before that. I used to be a 15-minutes-before-I-have-to-be-out-the-door kind of person, but that all changed when I started at Walmart, mainly due to the fact that I wasn’t able drink my morning coffee at my desk or during my commute. There was no desk at Walmart, and my commute was 15 minutes, if there was heavy traffic. (It’s a habit/routine that has stuck, my 3-hour mornings, and I love my mornings.) I need to do this go-in-at-seven thing once a month, and it really screws me up. It’s always a Wednesday, and it takes me days to recover, but I’m usually good by the weekend. But not this time, no siree.
I assumed by Wednesday night I would fall into bed and sleep like a baby, or a rock. Exhaustion on top of exhaustion. Right?
Yeah, no. Thursday morning I wake up at 4 a.m. and can’t get back to sleep. I struggle yet again through another insane day at work and come home barely able to function. I can’t even speak in complete sentences, but who is there to talk to other than the cats and dogs, so I’m not too worried. (But I am worried. And I’m angry. I feel robbed. I take really good care of myself, and I don’t deserve this! I feel so much empathy for anyone who is chronically ill; it’s so unfair!) I want to come home and go straight to bed, but that would undoubtedly cause me to wake up early yet again, so I kick back on the recliner and glue myself to the TV and hang on till 9 or 10 p.m.
Friday morning, awake at 4 a.m. again! Seriously?! WTF, over? Well, maybe if I’m lucky, I can go home from work a couple hours early since I’ve got “overtime.” But then what? Go to bed? And wake up at what, 1 a.m.? I don’t think so, and the workload just won’t let up, so it ain’t gonna happen. Besides, the bank is supposed to call with my loan approval. (Remember the handymen? Yes, they are hired and I’m getting a new roof! If I order my materials by 3 p.m. today, I can get delivery Tuesday and have my roof by the end of next weekend. Well, the bank didn’t call, but it wouldn’t have mattered ‘cuz the guys can’t get started till next weekend anyway and there’s rain in the forecast for the next 5 days.) So at least I can cross off all the patching and painting projects from my weekend to-do list. That’s a relief, because there is no way in hell I’d be capable anyway. I have plenty of low-energy projects to keep me busy, so onward and upward…
I’m feeling a little more like myself, in case anybody (other than me) is truly concerned. I’m going to chalk it up to hormones, or adrenal fatigue, or maybe that tick from a couple weeks ago poisoned me for a minute. I should see a doctor, but I don’t have one. I also need to see a dentist, after biting down on a fallen-out filling yesterday, but I don’t have one. I need a better bed, but the roof comes first. If I can get through the upcoming week, I’ll be thrilled because after that my boss will be on vacation for 2 weeks, and work is always better when he’s away. Someday I’ll tell you that story.