There are days like this, where I stare at a blank screen and nothing comes. No words to live by. No insights. Not a single happy memory. All I can think about is how tired I am. I don’t mean tired in that I need more sleep, although I could use a few more hours. I mean that tired that goes all the way down to your soul. Its a tired that you cannot escape with sleep.

When Kody was still around, he told me often that he was tired. I’d generally laugh because he’d have spent all day sleeping already or tell him to go take a nap. But he meant the same type of tired that I am talking about now. There is a tired that goes deeper than just the surface level, a biting fatigue that cannot be easily overthrown. This is that tired that tells you that it is so challenging to be human. The tired that cuts to the bone.

Tired in this sense makes it so difficult for me to plow on, even though I know that I must. It’s like trying to walk against the current of a river, where you feel that you are getting nowhere as the rocks slide out from under your feet. Four steps forward, a slip, and you seem to be right back where you started from. It feels like I’ve been tired since the day Kody went missing and from the day my mom left this earth.

I don’t have energy to give, so I don’t give energy freely. I try to do what I can to preserve the moments I get to have all by myself because humans are exhausting. This is always a problem for introverts like Kody and I, but after these losses I keep more of my energy for myself. I need it, just to get up and start my day. The body runs surprisingly well on autopilot.

When I don’t have enough, not even for myself, I retreat into nature. Out in the wilderness there is energy to spare. The rocks, trees, and mountains seem to have it in abundance. I feel now that I understand Kody’s pain more than I ever have before. Yet I know it isn’t the same. It isn’t ever going to be the same.