Physically, I'm fine. My body is raring to go, ready to face the housecleaning and running around of another Saturday.
Emotionally, I'm tired.
This was a bad week for reading news about children. Is there ever a good week? Missing children, dead children, abused children, children beaten about the head and dumped somewhere, children killed over a dollar and stuffed in a closet, children lost by the system meant to protect them.
I take it all to heart, and I cry as I read the stories. Why do I always read this stuff when my own kids aren't home for me to hug? And I know it's not just me. If you have a heart, a good heart, you feel it too. Robyn feels it and Stacy feels it and it gets to you. It tears at you.
I don't understand the balance of nature. I don't understand why genetics has to be so unfair. Why there are people who have children and scar them with words and fists and baseball bats, and on the other end of the spectrum there are good, loving people who cannot have children. People who would love and cherish a child and because of some cosmic glitch may never get to do so.
There are women - no, girls - who give birth and then throw the helpless little infant in a dumpster or a lake, or leave it laying on a public bathroom floor as if it could fend for itself. There are people who have child after child after child and don't make the effort to take care of any of them. They leave them home alone to set fires. They don't feed them. They let them sit around in their own filth or send them out into the streets or dump them on relatives who won't treat them any better.
There are women and men who see children as prizes to be won, appendages to show off when company comes over, but don't spend the time to read to them or play with them or listen to them because they are too busy making enough money to move up one more step on the social ladder and still believe in the "children should be seen and not heard" phrase.
There are parents who can't even tell you the name of their child's teacher or what their son's favorite color is or what their daughter's favorite food is. There are parents who don't come home at night and the kids wake up and the sitter is gone and they are alone, all alone with no one to help them get breakfast. There are children who live in shacks and eat cold corn out of a can for lunch and have never gone to school or made a friend or wore a piece of clothing that wasn't used and dirty. And their parents have more kids after them, never stopping to think that if they can't feed one kid they certainly can't feed two or three or six.
And then there are the men and women who spend years going to doctors and specialists and consulting every expert on the subject but still fail to get their one wish - to have a child of their own. They endure years of painful tests and roller coaster emotions and operations and nights of sad, desperate tears in their efforts to have a baby. I can only imagine how they feel when they see another news story about a child who died at the hands of its own parents.
And there are men and women who want to adopt one of the thousands of unwanted children and are told that they are not the right religion or race or their belief system or sexual orientation is wrong. And that's another child that lingers in the system because someone with a clipboard and a checklist never looked past their prejudices to see the person behind the name, the person that would make a damn good, loving parent.
I know life isn't fair. I know we aren't all handed a tally board when we are born so we can make sure we get what everyone else has. But sometimes the inequities make me cry for those people who should have but don't.
I'm not talking about rich or poor, here. I'm not going on about how some people have money and some don't, and some people are born gorgeous and others don't fare so well. I'm talking about the ability or inability to create another human being, and how the ability to do so does not necessarily mean that you should. It all seems grossly unfair.
Just reason #232 why I am so mentally tired.