Still I Rise

 

It's 9:48 in the morning on a weekday, and I am in bed. I got up earlier and took The Kid to school, came home and wrote a little, then just decided to get back into bed.

I can do that, most days, but I choose not to. Today, I am stressed by the bids we have been getting to rehab the house, tired from consistent poor sleeping, and entering hibernation mode as I do this time every year. I just want to sleep, watch TV, and make soup.

This becomes problematic when one is trying to get anything done.

This also becomes problematic when one feels one has to justify one's ability to go back to bed mid-morning on what most people consider a work day.

I, too, consider it a work day. I just work differently, I guess. Everything is different, though. I am not the same person I was a year ago. I am not in the same house, state, job, thought space. Part of this feels like depression, but part of it feels like taking stock, exploring, and getting ready for the next thing. It's grief, in an odd stage that doesn't have as much crying, which is nice for making other people feel comfortable, but this grief has a short fuse. It requires the time and space to process bits of things at a time.

So when I go back to bed I try not to be hard on myself for doing so. I will get back up.

"Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise." 

(Image)