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She’s the person who remembers birthdays, packs lunches, books appointments, cleans the house, checks in on her parents, listens to her friends, shows up at work, and never lets anything fall through the cracks.
She’s the glue that holds everyone and everything together. And yet no one can see through the calm, composed, and capable disguise. She’s become so good at wearing her mask that no one can see—much less even consider—that she’s slowly unravelling on the inside.
Finding Solace in Strangers
I know the story I shared so well because I have heard a version of that story countless times when holding space for women to journal. It’s often easier to share with a stranger who’s on the outside looking in than with those closest to us. Whenever I hear a version of this story, it’s accompanied—sometimes knowingly and other times unknowingly—by an undercurrent of shame.
“Shame is the most powerful, master emotion. It’s the fear that we’re not good enough.” ~ Brené Brown
The fear that we’re not good enough. How many of us can relate to this regardless of what we’ve achieved and our role in the world? Somehow, functioning but fading has become the preferred default for far too many women who may smile on cue but can’t remember the last time they had a good night’s sleep or felt appreciated for giving all they have.
Exhaustion Doesn’t Always Come with an Exclamation Mark
When I speak to women about what exhaustion looks like in their lives, I rarely hear about full-blown breakdowns. That said, if we don’t listen to the wisdom of our bodies, we are likely to experience the equivalent of a volcano that can manifest in all kinds of ways. It’s the seemingly small, insignificant admissions that pique my interest the most.
Moments like:
>> Dreading hearing someone call your name again.
>> Scrolling on your phone in the bathroom to numb the noise in your head and get an extra five minutes to yourself.
>> Realising you spend so much time “doing” that you feel lost or stuck in life.
The flow-on effect of exhaustion can look different for each of us. The examples I hear often include:
>> Crying without understanding why.
>> Craving space but feeling too guilty to ask for it.
>> Feeling numb but still going through the motions.
In a sentence: It’s the kind of debt you can never escape.
Choosing to Pause Over Performance
Humans aren’t always great at being humans in my experience. For many of us, our default position is to try to make things better rather than simply being present with someone in their moment of need. Honouring our needs is a foreign concept to many of the women who book in time to journal with me. They are often overwhelmed when I suggest writing down whatever they need to and then shredding it, without telling anyone what they wrote (not even me, if they choose not to).
As I am discovering, much of ageing is a process of unlearning whatever no longer serves me. Every day things like:
>> Checking in on my own capacity before checking in on others.
>> Saying no even when I know people want me to say yes.
>> Rethinking my narrative around slowing down.
When we don’t stop to pause, we often become stuck in an endless rut of pushing, performing, and pretending. Until pretending becomes so normal that it becomes our default.
The Path Back to Yourself
We don’t need to make bold, dramatic moves or statements to drive change. You may not see anyone in your life openly talking about exhaustion and how it’s slowly wearing them down, but you’re not alone. You’re also not selfish for needing rest. You’re human.
The way back to yourself can be simple yet effective.
I call them moments of honesty with my clients that can look like:
>> Spending five minutes deep belly breathing and tuning in to how you are feeling at that moment.
>> Journaling for five minutes. Shred anything you don’t want anyone else to read or find.
>> Placing your hand on your heart and asking, “What do I need right now?”
Treat this as your sacred time, like an important work meeting or appointment that can be moved as needed but never cancelled.
We Were Never Meant to Carry Everything
The world loses a little bit of its spark each time an exhausted woman burns out completely. You can be grateful but yearn for more than simply survival.
Now, possibly more so than ever, the world needs all of the feminine energy it can muster. It’s never too late to come home to yourself, one deep breath or paragraph of journaling at a time.
~
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