Let's Talk About Fatigue

We often use the words tired and fatigued as if they mean the same thing – but they’re really not. Tiredness is the body saying, “I need a break.” A nap, a meal, a quiet evening might be enough. Fatigue is different – heavier, deeper, and untouched by ordinary rest.

Fatigue feels like your energy has quietly drained away – even simple things like standing up, replying to a message, or making tea can feel too much. You might sleep and still wake up flat, like the light won’t quite switch back on.

When fatigue comes with burnout, it’s often because stress has been running the show for too long. The system stays on alert – thoughts racing, body tense, never really powering down. You might keep pushing, thinking “I just need to try harder” – but the harder you push, the emptier you feel.

This is the threat system in action – the mind trying to protect you by striving, fixing, controlling. But healing doesn’t happen there. It happens in the soothing system – where safety, kindness, and permission to rest can start to return.

What May Help

Name it honestly – This isn’t laziness. This is fatigue. The body saying “I’m empty.” Naming it truthfully turns shame into understanding.

Gentle pacing – Not pushing, not crashing – just steady, compassionate steps. Effort balanced with pause.

Soothing rhythm breathing – Slow, kind breaths to remind your body it’s safe to rest. Just a few minutes can begin to calm the threat system.

Compassionate self-talk – What would you say to a friend who felt like this? Try offering those same words to yourself: “It makes sense you’re exhausted – you’ve been carrying a lot. Resting is not weakness, it’s wisdom.”

Curious experiments – Try approaching things with gentleness instead of pressure. “If I rest first, what happens?” Notice what shifts. Let evidence, not guilt, guide you.

Fatigue doesn’t respond to willpower – it responds to warmth. If tiredness is the body’s whisper, fatigue is the body’s plea to stop and listen. The invitation isn’t to bounce back – but to rebuild slowly, with care. Every act of rest, every small kindness, is a way of saying: I’m on my own side again.