Worked to failure

So I finally followed up on the complimentary personal training session I got when I joined the gym 14 months ago, and I am now less energetic than an elderly slug. Wow. It was definitely an enjoyable experience in the whole accomplishment, good kind of pain/exhaustion way, but the aftermath tomorrow is going to be rough. I also learned that while I remain slender, my fitness level has plummeted. I guess reading Us Weekly on the bike is really not challenging me much. Gawd, I am, literally, completely enervated. I was thrilled by the idea of tomorrow being the first day in a very long while that I seemed to have nothing on the books, but wham! I must have been insane to think such a thing was possible in the current clime that is my life. Jack came down with a headache and fever this afternoon, so instead of regaining any modicum of sanity and reserve, I will instead probably be ministering to a sick little boy. I love my darlings, but parenting sick kids is rarely fun or relaxing. Have I done something karmically wrong for which I've been tasked to pay now? Seriously, I feel like I'm on some Nazi tread-wheel and no one will let me off, despite my every effort to jump ship. I want to stop running; the thought of doing so feels all-encompassing at times lately. A visual might be the scene in The Hours where Laura runs away to the hotel to read, to escape, and the waves wash over her and she feels as if a cancer patient must after receiving a dose of morphine. I want to check in!

I guess, in essence, I feel worked to failure in the physically but also emotionally. I want to shed responsibilities as quickly as possible, but I don't feel I can. Which would I? How? They all seem critical in various ways. And I really don't think I feel that way because I'm a type-A person who has a slight tendency towards perfectionism. That's true, but life is asking more of me right now than I can give anymore, more than I want to give, more than I could even hope or want to perfect. Good enough is my mantra right now, and even that seems monumentally challenging. Have I mentioned that we leave for Chicago at 10am on Friday morning?

And with that, I just ordered take-out. With some sadness.