I had an epiphany today. I'm not tired; I'm weary. Webster's defines weary as:
"exhausted in strength, endurance, vigor, or freshness...having one's patience, tolerance, or pleasure exhausted."
I'm weary of horrible, life-shattering, painful things happening to people I love.
I'm weary of living and working in a City where incompetence and strife run high, and change and progress run low (if they even run at all).
I'm weary of putting my time and energy and money into this City and not really getting anything to show for it.
I'm weary of getting no recognition from those I answer to for how I've worked my tail off this year; instead, all that is pointed out is what I've not done.
I'm weary of other people's crises and problems that I'm pulled in to, that take me away from getting done the stuff I need to get done. (See point above.)
I'm weary of the fact that it is butt-cold.
I'm weary of not having a garage.
I'm weary of going to work in the dark and coming home in the dark. Sunshine, where are you?
I'm annoyed that today the mail person saw it fit to just dump all the mail for all the apartments in my house in my box. Sure, I'll do your job for your and sort the mail.
I'm weary that I don't really want to put the time and energy into advancing my career - like people expect of me - because I really just want to get married and have a family.
I'm weary that I'm 31 years old and not married.
I'm weary that it's been 12 months since I've had a date. (Did I just admit that to everyone in cyberspace? Yikes).
I'm weary of living so far away from my family.
I'm sad that "Amazing Race" is done...now what will I watch on Sundays?
I'm weary of hearing "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree".
This made me less weary:
Talking on the phone with my dad (even if it was only about my mom's Christmas present.)
And reading this:
O God, you are my God; earnestly I seek you;
my soul thirsts for you;
my flesh faints for you,
as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.
So I have looked upon you in the sanctuary,
beholding your power and glory.
Because your steadfast love is better than life,
my lips will praise you.
So I will bless you as long as I live;
in your name I will lift up my hands.
My soul will be satisfied as with fat and rich food,
and my mouth will praise you with joyful lips,
when I remember you upon my bed,
and meditate on you in the watches of the night;
for you have been my help,
and in the shadow of your wings I will sing for joy.
My soul clings to you;
your right hand upholds me.
~Psalm 63: 1 - 8
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