Tired.
New prose poems to read or listen to about feeling Tired. [Plus, a 'happy' and a spring invitation to share]
Tiredness has taken over my life again. After living within its tension and limits, in little pockets of energy, I wrote two prose pieces about being Tired. Click play on the audio file above to listen to me read both poems aloud.
The prose in the second, shorter poem touches on an update from the art side of my creative work — the colors I’m being drawn to and why. Spoiler: my soul is hungry to feel alive again — for signs of spring in me.
Prose Poem 1
To live, to learn, to heal, to alchemize, to metabolize, to create, to build a life, to grieve even, requires energy – energy I do not have most days. I think the capital ‘”T” Tired started when my daughter died, when Trauma and Grief took up residence in my postpartum body, and I awoke to a living nightmare. But I never really woke again. I’ve known a tiredness that feels like sadness and a sadness that feels like tiredness tainted with – painted with – grief and PTSD, mixtures of hormones and iron levels, and motherhood and deployments, and on and on – a tiredness that may also go by the name ‘depression.’ Tired tells me to stop trying, stop caring, stop dreaming, stop striving, just stop. Tired tells me that I can’t do it – just quit. Tired needs to be tended to. It demands it. Tired does well sometimes with naps and iron supplements and sunlight and hormonal ebbs and Golden Retriever hugs. But Tired takes over my life more than you know. Tired takes my ability to be present. It pins me to the bed when I want to paint a canvas full of spring flowers or hike through the muck of a damp Redwood forest and marvel at the yellow banana slugs along the path or play basketball in the driveway with my sons after school. Some days, a lot of days, I’m Tired. Some days, Tired takes a lot. But even though Tired goes bone and soul-level deep, Tired, like Grief, cannot take or describe a whole Life. Tired is one word in the greater composition of me.
Prose Poem 2
On the gray, cloudy days, after the tiredness seeped like sorrow into my spirit, and burrowed into the marrow of my bones, my fingers lift the green pastels from my palette. Earthy evergreens, grass and moss, lime and mint. I’m painting spring and new life into the weariness of my being.
I often find myself relating to the words of writers with chronic illness, even though I do not suffer from a chronic illness. There is a similar weariness that overlaps with other forms of prolonged grief, emotional long-suffering, and mental and emotional struggles, which I do know.
I have taken a lot of naps lately — and given myself ample grace and permission to do so. After forgetting to take my iron supplements, I’m back to taking them again. I have therapy today. The Tired is being tended to. Some days it’s just helpful to name the experience.
Are you feeling tired or Tired?
You’re not alone. Sending lots of love and compassion your way today.
Little ‘Happies’
Often when I’m Tired, I find myself doing more scrolling on my phone than I’d like. The plus side of scrolling is that sometimes the social media algorithms serve up some joy and little ‘happies’ that warm my heart or stir a laugh that lightens the heaviness of the fatigue.
Here’s one such heartwarming ‘happy’ from this week.
Do you know about the story of Panchi-kun, or “Punch,” the baby monkey in Japan, who was abandoned, rescued, and is being raised at the Ichikawa City Zoo? People around the world, myself included, have had our hearts captivated by Punch’s emotional journey — from being abandoned and outcast to bonding with an orange orangutan plushie from IKEA, to more recently finding social acceptance and making friends with the other monkeys, while still taking good care of his emotional support stuffed toy. His story is one I can’t stop following. As the person on Threads below wrote, I, too, wake up and “hope Punch is having a good day.”
I hope you are having a good day, too.
P.S. An Invitation for Writers This Spring
Trying to tend to your writing practice, writing projects, and writing life on your own can be its own kind of tiresome.
This spring — starting on March 16th — I’m creating a space to support a small cohort of writers for 6 weeks. The Spring Sessions is my group coaching program designed for writers who want to cultivate belief in themselves and their words, overcome resistance, and make real progress on their writing projects by turning to the page with renewed clarity and courage. Through structured spaces, rhythms, and an intimate community setting, you’ll find practical and emotional support to write the words you’ve been longing to write.
The program welcomes writers at all stages and in all genres who are looking for support and momentum this spring.
The program will run from March 16th to April 27th, with 6 live sessions held on Mondays at noon PT / 3 pm ET on Zoom (March 16, 23, 30, (by week), April 13, 20, 27). We’ll have live group coaching calls, featuring one writer per week, opportunities to stay and write together in real-time, plus we’ll incorporate journaling as a supportive reflective practice to nurture our inner writers.
Currently, 4 spots are filled, and I’d love to welcome in 2-4 more writers! Registration is open now through March 9th. Learn more and save your spot by clicking the button below.
I am writing about my experiences through 25 years of grief (I also lost a child) and trying to give words to normalize our human response to loss and these words reminded me I am not alone here. Thank you for sharing this experience…i resonate so deeply.
Kristin, these poems are beautiful. Real. Raw. Relatable. Thank you for sharing them. I'm tired too. But I think these words were my favorite, "Tired is one word in the greater composition of me." Yes! I needed that reminder.