So. Very. Tired.
Exhausted because I cannot settle to anything for any length of time.
Exhausted because I am not sleeping well due to worries of impending apocalypse.
Exhausted because standing up for yourself should be a full time job in itself, and someone should bring something to lean on, and cake. My legs are wobbly, as well as the chins I keep taking it on.
Exhausted because I have encountered some spectacularly hateful people this week who really think they are keeping it real, and telling you how great they are in comparison to you and frankly they are boring and it’s exhausting having to keep flipping them the finger.
Exhausted because I have had raging, and I mean raging, PMT this week. Cramps all week but no bleeding until today. Hip pain that is off the charts. Morning sickness (coffee, why do you taste of metal?) and such sadness. Not helped of course by the fact that the world is a pretty grim place to live these days.
Exhausted because Tilly suddenly grew up rather spectacularly and we are doing uni interviews, driving tests (she passed!), car insurance quotes and she is looking at rooms to rent for when she moves out.
Exhausted because there is not enough time and I am being stupid and double and triple booking myself to stuff and then forgetting other stuff.
Exhausted because of all this on top of regular, day to day life in a busy family with three children.
I can’t not look at the news. That’s exhausting.
I can’t not respond to trolls at the moment. That’s exhausting. To be fair I’ve given up responding to the worst ones, but there was some fine community based stuff going on about the library. Turns out the minority of idiots got reinforcements. Six days. Six days of people telling me I am bigoted, prejudiced, too white, too privileged, too lazy, not obedient, responsible for their inertia, inaction and unwillingness to shift for themselves and I shit you not, for the Hillsborough Disaster, Thatcher and all Tory wrong doing, simply for trying to hold a meeting to save a library in a freely offered meeting hall in a Conservative club. You literally could not make this shit up. The level of personal abuse and accusations of bigotry from certain members of the Labour party I’ve had this week has made me doubly glad I tore up my membership last year and committed whole heartedly to the WEP. The fact that people cannot step outside their bubbles for the common good and have the nerve to call anyone who does a traitor is frankly appalling. And I know not all Labour members, and yes, some of my best friends are socialists, but they’re my friends because they can put party politics aside when it comes to uniting for something bigger than the party line, not because they know all the words to The Red Flag and have a picture of Corbs stuck to their bedroom wall.
And I have still been heartened by those in the community who have continued to stand by me and for me for voluntarily doing something that someone asked me to do as a favour.
And I know, don’t feed the trolls. It’s not always as easy as it looks.
And tonight it appears that the library might be safe after all, which would be amazing except that some twat is bound to try and insinuate that I will be sorry for some completely twat arsed reason that will make no sense and I will have to resist the urge to hulk smash laziness masquerading as virtue, because I’m trying to be more like Baby Cheezus and less like Marvel comics and that’s fucking exhausting too.
Despite this, I have attended meetings, raised awareness, eyebrows and other things that need raising. I have donated to ACLU. I have joined Amnesty. I have almost read an entire book. I have been to the theatre (Woman in Black. For the fifth time). I have been to the pub with friends. I have been to a community planning group. I have kept two blogs, two community Facebook pages and two Twitter feeds ticking over. I have met people about defibrillators in public spaces. I have cooked on one or two occasions.
I have been to the dentist, and taken all my children to the dentist too, on two separate occasions. I have consoled my broken hearted teenager and watched with pride as she turned despair into grit and ambition. I have helped my husband whose back went into spasm earlier in the week and who is still crippling around. I have helped my mum and dad take on the company that sold them a broken oven and wanted them to pay over £300 to replace it because ‘extra costs have been incurred.’ I have talked to my brother about the issues he’s having with the NHS and put him in touch with someone who can help him out. I have visited my friend Nicki. I have eaten noodles with my children. I have written to my MP and the PM again. They love me. I have explained Twitter to pensioners.
I have done some good things on my family tree. I have finally tracked down the lesser spotted Wickwar, which has been bugging us for ages and will mean nothing to anyone outside of the family, but which makes me very happy indeed. There may be more Wickwars lurking, but I feel that I can handle this.
I was sad that I was too ill to go to the pub quiz this week, and I also missed my friend Vijay’s Stand up to Racism talk. I felt I had let the side down, and then I wrote this and thought. ‘You silly, bloody arse.’ it turns out, I’ve fitted in quite a bit.
And I’m exhausted.