Tired head

If the last few months are any sign, and considering how much I am dreading attending the conference this weekend where the journal is unveiled for the year, I believe I'm in the WRITE profession. (And that was an intentional placement of a homonym, my people.)

Because, speaking of people, I have been too much with the people lately. I am not the shy, self-effacing wallflower I was as a child, teen, or young woman, but I am still very much a loner at heart. Too much togetherness, whether by phone, email, or in person, exhausts me. I told my husband tonight that as much as I love him and enjoy spending time with him, I even have times of too much togetherness with him. (And thank God, I think it's mutual. Heh.)

By the end of the myriad days working in the coffee shop in the last several weeks, the noise and smells were making me nauseous--coffee, sandwiches, chocolate even ... music, keyboards clacking, people chatting. I badly needed peace and quiet.

Ironically, the more tired I get, the chattier I get when I'm around people. It's like I can't help myself--I'm watching from a distance, hearing my voice get hoarse and my mind get loopy, but just can't stop the madness.

So, the journal's printed and delivered, and I'm trying to shore up just a little more energy to make it through the final phase, because I'm used up and worn out. I want to be alone for days and days and days. My best friend (and best coworker) Gail will probably tiptoe around me in the hotel this weekend, and it's not her fault at all.

I want to write. Then sleep for a while. Then write a little more and sleep a little more. And slowly, become me again.