“I’m tired of singing the same old ‘tired’ song,” I confessed to my friend Chelsey last week. And she wasn’t the first to hear this tune fall from my frustrated lips. I’ve felt exhausted since I can’t remember when. Did it begin when the twins were born, boosting our family of five to a full house of seven? Or was it when I turned forty, and my body began to ache in all sorts of new places while my hormones whacked out with crazy fresh flips and dips, crashing my energy around right with them? Or, maybe it’s simply the compounding years of overstuffed schedules and overcrowded calendars, causing a slow and steady, wear down of my fragile body, soul, and spirit. All are amounting to bottom-out exhaustion. And with no sign of relief. In my world anyway. Because who am I kidding, I’m not getting any younger, the twins have thirteen plus years left at home. And honestly, the reality is, there will always be something. I know you feel that.
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