I wanted to close the door and not reopen it

Dear Delyara, The children were loud, the house felt crowded, my phone had already gone off too many times, and I could feel the exact point where my kindness was becoming effort rather than instinct. I wanted one room, one lock, one stretch of time where nothing could reach me. Instead, I moved through the usual evening, still answering, still caring, still doing it all well enough that nobody would think I needed saving from anything. That’s the strange part of this kind of tiredness. You can be functioning beautifully and privately desperate for a closed door.