I am exhausted. Emotionally wrung-out.
I am exhausted because my arms are empty. I am exhausted from trying to fill the void.
I feel that I should be exhausted. I am a new mum. New mums are always exhausted, aren’t they?
Instead of feeling exhausted because of caring for and nurturing my son, watching him grow and flourish, celebrating his milestones, I am celebrating his memory and nurturing his legacy.
I am exhausted because my baby is in my heart rather than in my arms.
I am exhausted because a part of my heart is gone forever.
I am exhausted from trying to explain the unexplainable.
I am exhausted because grief is crippling, all-encompassing and exhausting.
I am exhausted by those who seek drama and gossip. Thankfully, they are few, but it is The Way of Things that they sap the most energy.
I am exhausted from trying to get myself through each day although my world has ended.
I am exhausted because I have cried so many tears. Yet I know my supply of tears has not yet been exhausted.
I am exhausted of trying to live life, life that was so cruelly denied to Hugo.
I am exhausted. But I cannot stop. It is a kind of kinetic energy, it keeps me going. I fear that if I stop, I will fall apart. I will never be put back together again.