I Am Tired But…
A pause. A hug. A moment of stillness. To be held until I smell like you. until my exhaustion melts into something softer, lighter. A reminder that I don’t have to carry it all alone.
In 2025, words like tired, busy, break, superpower and energy are everywhere, so common that they’ve become part of the background noise. But behind each word, there’s a story, A weight, A meaning deeper than we acknowledge.
I am tired.
Not just the kind of tired that a night’s sleep can fix. Not the tired that coffee can chase away. It’s the kind of exhaustion that settles into your bones, that lingers even when you rest. The kind that comes from constantly building, striving, proving.
The kind that whispers, Is it enough? Am I enough?
But I keep going because in this world, rest is treated like a luxury, not a necessity. Because slowing down feels like falling behind. Sometimes, being tired is the price of chasing dreams.
I wake up every day with a to-do list longer than my patience, my inbox overflowing, my mind running faster than my body can keep up. I am building something, chasing something.
A Dream. A Vision. A Better Future. For Myself. For Others. For Something Greater Than Me.
But in the process, I forget that I am not a machine. That I too need refueling.
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I’ve spent so much time chasing goals.Launching projects, solving problems, helping others, holding things together. I pour my energy into ideas, people, and spaces that need me but in the process, I sometimes forget to keep a little for myself.
I push past exhaustion because that’s what I’ve always done. Because I’ve been told that stopping is failure. That slowing down is weakness. That being tired means I am not trying hard enough.
But deep down, I know better.
I know that being tired is not just about physical exhaustion. It is the weight of expectations, of responsibilities, of trying to be enough in a world that always demands more. It is the quiet ache of wanting to rest but not knowing how.
And yet, I crave something simple.
A pause. A hug. A moment of stillness. To be held until I smell like you. until my exhaustion melts into something softer, lighter. A reminder that I don’t have to carry it all alone.
Maybe tired isn’t just a state. Maybe it’s a language. A way of saying, I need space. I need care. I need something real.
So, what if we listened?
What if we let tiredness be more than a sign of weakness, but a call for connection? Maybe then, being tired wouldn’t feel so lonely. What if we honored the pauses as much as the hustle?
Because sometimes, being tired isn’t just about needing rest.
It’s about needing to feel seen.
