One of the most common conversations I’ve been having lately are about how tired people are. Amongst my colleagues, a simple knowing glance in one another’s direction is enough to convey the same message: I’m wiped. This fatigue is more than just a bad night’s sleep.
It feels like I’m watching a system breaking. Either, I’m powerless to do anything about it, I don’t know what my powers to create positive change are, or I’m not willing to do anything to change what’s happening. Throughout the day, there’s a constant argument going on in my head about what I’m willing to deal with and what I’m simply going to overlook or actively turn away from. The list of things I’m avoiding is growing steadily.
My saving grace is fourfold: I’ve got my family, the cats, the workshop, and Hannah. I’ve always maintained that there is no such thing as a “self made man.” Our strength is founded on the support we receive from others.
While speaking with a colleague after work, the notion of emotional and intellectual investment arose. I was saying that she should choose what’s most important and aim to do as little as possible. She was saying how she’s either all in or all out. She has a sense of pride in her work that I’ve not maintained. I can be stubborn as fuck but I’ve learned to invest in what offers a potential for return.
The tip of the iceberg are the actions of others. Below the surface is the rationale and motivation. The dinghy I’m rowing bounces off the ice. Anything much bigger or more solid would have too much inertia to change course quickly enough. Luckily, I have my islands to rest on when I must go fishing or gather materials to build my own, small paradise on the volcanic rock that is creating new land.
It’s tiring work, all of it is.