Tired

I badly need a holiday. I’m tired in way I’ve never experienced – and I do have a bit of experience with being tired. I’ve been newborn-baby tired (twice), grief-stricken-at-the-loss-of-a-loved-one tired, and gutted-at-the-end-of-a-relationship tired. I’ve been tired after being sliced open and having bits of me removed. I’ve been tired after relocating over an ocean (several times). I’ve been tired after leaving a life and completely starting again.

I know what tired feels like, but this tired is different. No amount of rest, therapy, or antidepressants helps with this sort of tired. I’m tired of pervasive, wilful ignorance. I’m tired of incompetence. I’m tired of being lied to by charlatans. I’m tired of worrying that my life is about to be irrevocably changed because of racism and xenophobia. I’m tired of going to bed at night knowing I’m one day closer to having everything I’ve worked for snatched away by politicians who have no clue what they’re doing. I’m tired of feeling embarrassed and heartbroken every time I see an EU national in knots because they’re suffering, too. I’m tired of waking up in the morning and having to force myself out of bed because all of the hard work I’ve put in to get to this point now feels a bit pointless.

I need a holiday from having no peace of mind. I need a holiday from feeling like I have a burning weasel squirming in my guts. I need a holiday from crack ideology. I need a holiday from idiots having too much say over the way my life will go. I need a holiday from intolerance. I need a holiday from lowest-common-denominator politics. I need a holiday from being at the mercy of people who have no interest in the well-being of anyone but themselves.

I need a holiday from Brexit. A permanent holiday from Brexit. One day soon, I hope to wake up in a fair, tolerant, caring, independent country.