I’m holding very still.
Everything aches. It hurts to move, it’s painful to think. I breathe, methodically, and with intent. A breath in, down to my toes, and then slowly I feel the air move out. I breathe in again.
I don’t feel good. I haven’t for a while. It makes writing hard. It makes everything hard.
I pushed myself today. I wrote this morning, then took a short nap. I went grocery shopping, had a quick lunch with a friend, and I stopped at another store for a few things for tomorrow night when two of my girlfriends are coming over for some girl time with snacks and wine. I couldn’t take another wasted day, another day when the most I could manage was to get dressed and brush my teeth.
I have a health history that I don’t and probably won’t talk about here. My identity isn’t tied to those things, though I acknowledge they are part of my story.
Today I am just tired and discouraged.
On a positive note, Special Man and I have had some honest, even difficult conversations of late, and I’m making a focused effort over the next two months to expand my own poly circles. It was hard for me to say the words, “This isn’t working for me.” I am conscientiously making emotional and mental space for new relationships. I have found myself so comfortable, so settled in my relationship with him, that it is challenging for me to be open to others. I’m not exactly sure how to change that, but I am working on it.
I’m tucked in bed, and I plan to sleep early and sleep hard. Good night, friends.