A wobbly keel

I thought that seizing and holding the moral high ground (eh, Thalia?) would somehow give me some peace of mind. Not necessarily complete peace of mind, but at least a not-too-self-congratulatory sense of maturity and a semblance of an even keel. Progress! Diplomacy! Confidence! Comfort in things moving forward, and wonder at where we are and the goodness of it. That was my version of the way things would go.

And I do have that comfort and wonder, in work and in life. I am so lucky; I am learning all the time; I love the work I do. But tonight I feel like I don't have much backbone left, or much diplomacy. I've exhausted all of it with the meetings and meetings and workshops and parties in the last 72 hours.

God knows I can pitch a fit with the best of 'em, and I'm an infrequent proprietor of the MHG. And I am more stubborn than most, too. I'm hanging in, getting it done. So why the instinct to hunker down?

The pressure I'm under is minor compared to what my near-and-dears have been up to: having babies, conducting by-proxy policy debates, litigating, starting businesses, remodeling houses, managing celebrity meet-and-greets, making graduate art portfolios. Essentially, I've just had to know when not to talk and how to ask the right questions, and things have been great.

And so: confused. Why do I feel so defeated, at the end of a good day? And the utter lack of enthusiasm at the prospect of having to negotiate another collaboration and more meetings and revisions, what's up with that? Is the answer a cup of cocoa, a hot bath, and a long night's sleep? Snuggling up in one of Kolz's sweaters and the Mama blanket and getting another book read (i.e., my current state)? A run, a row?