Pieces

I have lost all motivation. 

I was so excited to move to where I'm at. I was feeling good about life, even though my mind kept telling me not to trust it and that it was all too good to be true. The calm before the storm. I lost my job, but got a new one quickly, so I was feeling optimistic for awhile, and still am mentally for the most part, but my body cannot keep up. 

I am exhausted in every way a person can be. I am almost as close to broke as I was at my lowest point, and I have several bills that need paid. I owe a lot to people and need one of my bills paid before I can even register for spring classes, to start towards a career that excites me. Laying in bed when I can't sleep I come up with all sorts of plans for the morning about all the amazing things I'll do. All the ways I'll pick myself up and pull myself together and feel some assemblance of productivity. And when I wake up, it's gone. 

I am tired. And so tired of being tired and so tired of talking about being tired. I want people to understand how tired but I'm afraid if they do they'll look at me as a wounded victim, and although that's a title I used to claim, I refuse to ever do so again. 

Not sure where this post is going. Maybe it's just a raw moment of honesty. I want to be fiercely independent, but I clearly can't handle it well. Jesus is picking up the pieces I drop, but I'd rather not drop any at all. I am tired. I'm sad, and I have no motivation. I have an enormous pile of clothes on my floor that are clean, they just need to be put away and I can't seem to find the effort to even do that. 

Hopefully it will come back to me soon, because I miss feeling productive.