Sometime during the course of this week, I realized how incredibly, overwhelmingly tired I am. It's not even physical fatigue, though I've had awful insomnia lately and could certainly use a good night's sleep. It's just that the summer was so stressful, what with childcare problems and money problems and the anniversary of P's death and all the rest of it, that I'm all worn out and used up. Bottom of the barrel. Needle on empty. Stick a fork in me, I'm done.
On top of that, I've been feeling old -- not in a "Woe, I'm not a teenager anymore" way, but in a weary way. I'll be 36 in a couple of months, and I feel as if I've already lived an entire lifetime: at an age when some people are just starting to think about getting married and having babies, I've already had a complete marriage from beginning to end, and when G turns 9 in January, I'll be halfway through my child-raising years. I feel practically old enough to retire. What am I supposed to do about that?
I really, really need some rest.
The last time I did sleep well, a few weeks ago now, I had the most vivid dream about P. I saw him, said something like "Oh, you've come for a visit," and went over to hug him, and when I did that, I put my face in his neck and sniffed him. For as long as I knew him, he had this fantastic scent that seemed to come right out of his skin -- it was a bit like freshly baked bread and always made me think of good things to eat -- and I could actually smell it in the dream. I don't think I've ever dreamt of a scent before, but there it was. Strange, but also wonderful in a way.