swimming in the deep end

It all feels like it’s already been said.

All the words have been taken.

The ones about exhaustion and anxiety.

About despair and waiting.

The posts about overworking and not enough sleep have all been written.

Balance – we get it – it’s elusive.

Time management – we understand – it’s tricky.

Self care – we know – it’s important.

I’m a broken record over here.

My friends and I, over tea or crepes, through deep sighs and understanding arm pats, we say we hear you, we see you, we ARE you. We’re all singing the same song, paddling the same canoe, weathering the same storms.

We are all tired.

We’re all that fabulous line in one of Tolkien’s books – feeling thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread.

Weary doesn’t even begin to be a big enough word to fit us all in.

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