Every so often a word gets stuck in my head and I use it over and over again. It’s usually something that comes with the baggage of negative connotation. For the last few weeks, actually months, it’s been fatigue. It’s this crazy feeling of being stuck. The ongoing pandemic doesn’t help matters much. Clearly. Every day, every moment feels like a battle against it.
It’s overwhelming. It’s tiring. It’s fatigue.
The online dictionary defines fatire as extreme tiredness resulting from mental or physical exertion or illness.
As someone who has been dealing with it for a while now, all I can really say is that it’s this feeling of being on a carousel and finding it difficult to get off. It’s when no matter what you do, nothing seems productive enough. There is this constant feeling of being tired and at the same time feeling like you have not done enough to rightly feel so.
It comes in waves, I have realised.
Initially, there is hope. Working in pyjamas from bed? Isn’t this what the dreams are made of?
Then, hope starts to taper off as the reward on the other side starts to feel bleak. You soon realise the ocean between now and the other side is too vast and you can’t gauge its depth. Everything starts getting real. Surreal.
Death tolls stop scaring you. You start spending on small indulgences. Is this the new normal, you wonder? Is this something worth getting to know?
Wasn’t this supposed to feel better? Why doesn’t it feel easier? Why am I still tired? Why is the shore still so still far away? Why do I still feel tired?
Why can’t 2021 begin already?