where the writers are
A Thin Layer of Exhaustion

Moving is exhausting. There is no other way to put it, it is purely exhausting. Throw in some lovely, but unruly, children, a desire to keep writing, and some other regular run of the mill chaos and there you have it-exhaustion. Most people would probably start to complain a little here, they are tired, achy, bitchy, and yes I am all of those things but I am also-surprisingly-content.

 

There is a rawness of emotion and reality that comes with being exhausted. No longer do I have the energy to waste on things that are not really important, therefore I tend to focus on the things that are. That seems to shave a great deal of superfluousness out of my life and, despite working under the haze that come with exhaustion, actually makes things quite clearer.  This applies to everything from my relationships to my writing-again a surprisingly, yet positive result of sleepness nights, over exertion, and chaos in my daily life.

 

That's not to say that I would like it like this all the time. No thank you.  There is without a doubt a certain level of craziness that comes with being so tired and emotionally stretched, for me I tend to giggle more than normal and drink copious amounts of tea. Decision making is not at it's best right now either, so I try to avoid that process. That being said, however, there is also a joy that comes from small things, important things, that I often miss because I am so preoccupied by what is not important that I miss what is. A hug, a moment to write, a sloppy kiss, a note from a true friend, or love in any form.  Sometimes when I am so busy in daily life I miss those things, but when I am exhausted and covered in a thin, hazy veil, they seem to be all I see.

 

In addition, my writing, at least for this moment, is a bit clearer, and the time more appreciated. I may be tired, and will certainly have to go back and edit what I have written in the last few days, but it is still there, that inspiration that finds great amounts of creativity hidden in the fog I seem to be walking around in.  My characters seem more real, their journeys more definite, the scenes more clear in my mind, all through a very thin layer of exhaustion.