The flesh is weak

I've been sitting here for the past hour wondering why I feel thick and heavy with exhaustion - as foggy and dull as an old butter knife and just as useless - when it finally occurred to me:

After a rough 24 hours I've allowed my body to rest and my brain decided that whatever the body is doing the brain has to do better. In this case if the body is allowed to stop and regroup then the mind goes into major shut-down mode.

Which is why I'm writing instead of resting.

If I allow myself to rest then I may not get back up for a long time and that just doesn't fly when there is a young toddler to take care of. True, Mr. C is on vacation but it doesn't seem fair to leave the majority of the work on him. True also, my unmade bed looks inviting, but how decadent it seems to slumber in the middle of the day. A week day. A Monday.

But why can't I allow myself to find respite under cool sheets and goosedown? Wasn't I the one who almost had a panic attack in the dentist's office this morning (three cavities instead of two)? My husband had no idea how terrified I was of a procedure I had never experienced before and, honestly, neither did I until it was over. The visit left me spent, but it wasn't just the trip to the dentist that has put me into this coma. No, one stressful situation I can handle. It wasn't even the seizure my dog had last night. Or the contractors who are here, again. It's not the stress of the holidays or all the shopping I still have to do. It's not the dis-satification I feel for my job or the lack of respect I have for my bosses. And it's not the fact that I agreed to debate (a term I use loosely) one side of a touchy subject on Kristen's blog talk show tomorrow night.

It's none of those things and all of those things combined with the news that came yesterday morning that my grandfather died.

There has been so much death in my family in the past few years. My mother, my paternal grandfather, a great uncle and now my maternal grandfather. Too much loss and too many tears. It's all so wearing.

I had planned on eulogizing him, my grandfather, here for memories sake, but I don't have the energy. No, now I want to put my daughter down for a nap and take one myself. But I won't because there are floors to be vacuumed and dishes to be done, lists to be made, Christmas lights to be hung, cars to be retrieved and classes to prepare for.

I'll take only this short amount of restful time to jot down a few words before starting another job. I come from a family that doesn't believe in rest until all tasks are completed. My 80 year old grandfather, my Papa, worked until a few months before he died. My mother was the same way. Work is what keeps us going, what keeps our minds sharp and our eyes clear. I'll sleep tonight when I know everyone in my house is safely tucked away in their respective beds and at least a few chores are crossed off my list.

That is when I will allow my mind to turn off.