Exhausted, utterly and profoundly dead ass tired. Having a full time job and being a mum of two has made exhaustion and I two of the very best of friends. Add a dash of attempting to erase debt and buy a house and a splash of becoming a self published author . You’ve now got a great recipe for pure and utter walking dead zombification.

Exhaustion takes my hand every morning, climbs up my arms to hang from my eyelids, swinging back and forth, creating a nice twitch in my lash line that will last for months. She has wicked little chuckle that drowns out any other sounds when I vow to drink less coffee. Ready to pounce into my vision when I sit down to write. She bounces, finger to finger, distracting me from my task. 

Every day I deny and avoid her. Starting in the morning when I bounce up and down and convince myself I wont fall asleep in the shower, again. The effort it takes for me to listen attentively to a 3 and 8 year old as they chatter in the back seat while also focusing on the roads an head of me. Adrenaline aids me by the time I make it to work, whether it be new animals to snuggle or the need to dodge gnawing teeth and thrashing nails. At some point I may (or will, rather) call an energy drink to aid me and pull me through the afternoon.

After lunch my friend finds me again. She spots the crash from all the caffeine I’ve consumed and rides it like a wave to the shore of my consciousness. From there she’s got me. I drag my feet, begging her please!  Leave me alone! I can’t let her in, there is still half a day of responsibility on the horizon. She only laughs at my wishes and morphs into weighted ankle bracelets, fastening to my legs, making it all the more difficult to walk.

It may take hours, but somehow I pull her from my body. Most days I am successful at completing all of my tasks and making it to my crisp, white unused pillow just after 8pm. Dinner has nourished my children, dishes are cast from my sink and the only remaining truth for the day is giving in to her. Letting exhaustion follow my dragging feet to my bed.

From there the little demon sits down to have a nice long conversation with her old friend anxiety. They  reminisce and giggle like school girls at things I’ve done or said that day and/or things I said or did 5 years ago. Their chatter does not allow me to rest for at least an hour and when my eyes finally close for the night, they take turns making my dreams more exhausting than my day was.

In trying to find a positive in this, I’ve come to the realization that my pillow will last longer than most. Yes, it may be due to lack of use, but it’s true just the same.

In the next coming days I will battle with my annoying friend and complete the first round of corrections for book one. I will use my elation to pull me from the claws of exhaustion. I will leave my pillow unused happily, knowing that I am that much closer to sharing Ian and Marie with you all!

I’ll sleep when I’m dead, or later tonight, whichever comes first. 

Angela Edmonds 

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