DONE LIKE DINNER
How do you know when you’re done? Done. Done. Done. Done like dinner…somebody stop me.
It’s awful to learn that the body you inhabit is really, finally done. The mind never seems to agree. The mind still thinks you are 40 and able to complete physical tasks now, with the same competency you did at that age. Completely disregarding the facts.
Body reality hits when you step up a sidewalk curb to get the mail and your knee hurts. Or you notice that your skin is tissue paper thin when your favorite pet paws at you to go out, creating a flesh wound the size of the Grand Canyon. Hey, the Grand Canyon is one of the Eight Wonders of the World. At least you are now associated something famous, eh?
This week is something different. It is a different kind of Done. It’s a new mental reality, never experienced by the likes of me. I think I might be losing my ability to cope. I used to cope with stress that would kill 10 men, and not break a sweat. Now? I can barely cope with my laundry. Sheesh.
I have worked since before I was of legal age to have a work permit. I baby-sat, mowed lawns, had a paper route, helped my mom when she took in ironing for extra money. I was a carhop at A&W, a waitress, a file-clerk. When my daughter was born and during her young life, I worked three jobs at once. I was a secretary, Monday through Friday. At night, I waitressed at a café. And, on weekends, I worked the graveyard shift filing for an insurance company.
The more money I made, the easier our life was. I could buy clothes and school supplies. I could pay rent. Work is all I have ever known. I fought. I was ambitious. I was dedicated and I was smart. Slowly up the ladder I went. Everything in its time. I have always been grateful to be employed.
I just wrote a piece on being wrong about losing my job and how happy that made me. Literally within the past week. I rambled on about keeping my dream house and blah, blah, blah. After a work week like this one, not so sure it turned out to be a good thing. Oh heck, we all have crappy weeks. Mustn’t grumble. This is something more. I am simply Done. Done. Done. Done.
I think I am tired of humans. Weird to admit because I are one. I don’t feel like a good carbon unit anymore. Helluva realization. I am having difficulty finding the good, which I always believed was inherent in other carbon units, as well. I think it’s fatigue. Yes, fatigue is kicking my ass, brought on by:
1. Politics — I loved politics, watched it all the time but since the Tool — no more
2. Pandemics — Understand and obey the rules, but tired of extremes one each side
3. Racism — Truly cannot stand that this still exists. The Floyd murder was so horrific
4. Greed — Sick of Corporate tactics driven by pure greed and getting played
5. Violence — Sick of riots, mass shootings, child abuse, human trafficking, and every other crime
6. Work — Sick of kissing the ass of people in high authority that are as dumb as a paper bag
7. Ignorance — Cannot understand why people who could be smart, don’t want to make the effort
8. Aging — hate that I am growing old, with all that entails
See? I’m right about my diagnosis. Wouldn’t you agree? This list is just the tip of the iceberg. At this moment, on this night, writing this article, I have no idea what to do with my life because I am Done. This is the first time I genuinely don’t have a clue.
I would like to say that I’ll be working on a plan, but I’m too fatigued. Done. Done. Done. Done like dinner…