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Tired

(SPW Co-Founder, Ro)
Often i’m asked how I remain so positive despite my situation and Adam’s “life” sentence. How I remain smiling while my husband is locked up for life. My usual response is that I’m human and I have bad days too. I force myself to have more good days than bad but that doesn’t mean I don’t get down or cry myself to sleep on those few off nights in between.

Tonight is one of those nights. Even though I’m thoroughly exhausted and all I want to do is sleep; I made a point to jot down my feelings so you can see that I’m just as normal as you. And vice versa, that you are just as normal as me. When these feelings start to brew; instinctively, I search for their cause. Am I hungry? Hormonal? Tired? Ah, there it is!

By the time I laid my head on the pillow last night, I had been awake for nearly 24 hours. I’m exhausted. Half way through this afternoon’s communion party for my sister-in-laws nephew, I felt my coffee wearing off. I took note of the slight headache and feeling of rawness behind my eyes. I poured myself another cup of coffee. Followed by another.

Around 6 pm I arrived home, changed my clothes, threw a load of “delicates” in the washing machine and sat down to answer emails that had accumulated over the past two days. As soon as I flipped open my lap top, there it was. Right there in front of me was the “good morning” email I started writing to Adam nearly ten hours before. How could I have gotten myself so distracted that I didn’t finish it? Visions of him worried about me, not knowing what I was up to or if I was okay flooded my head. Sending him an email first thing in the morning and last thing before bed has been my little ritual since the onset of this gig. He doesn’t expected it, he never asked for it but its something I’ve always done out of respect for our relationship. Because I don’t want him to worry about me. I want him to know what I”m up to and when I’m home safe. For the majority of the day, he had no idea how I was doing or where I was. I couldn’t help but feel guilty. The guilt consumed me to the point of blinking away tears. I took a moment and asked myself what I was so upset about? Was I upset because he didn’t hear from me or was I upset that I didn’t live up to the “perfect” standards I created for myself today? It was both.

Just as I scrambled to finish the late “good morning” email and send it off; the beeping of the washing machine was informing me that its cycle was complete. I couldn’t shake my feelings as I walked away from the computer and into the laundry room. In the midst of transferring my clothes to the dryer, I caught myself lost in a thought. I’m tired! I’m tired of it all. I’m tired of worrying, of wondering. I’m tired of pipe dreams and “what if”s; of denial is best and survival of the fittest. I’m tired of the stress, of attending family parties alone of not being able to pick up the phone to tell Adam I love him or to simply let him know I’m okay. I’m tired of this unusual, absurd and abnormal life. Tonight, I’m just tired. I’m tired of the prison wife life.