Running on Empty

a reflection on fatigue, faith, and the ways we care for ourselves

On Monday night, six days after my book came out, I went to bed feeling a little run down. On Tuesday morning, I woke up after a full night of sleep still weary in my bones. Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday were no different. No matter how much sleep I got, no matter how many naps I took or commitments I said no to, I couldn’t seem to muster the energy to do much of anything. (In fact, here at 3:20 on Saturday afternoon, I’m stifling yawns as I type these words.)

I’m not sick. I don’t feel bad physically. I don’t have any symptoms of an identifiable illness. But I am exhausted in a way I haven’t been in a long, long time.

Coming off of both the high and the stress of releasing a book into the world, it makes sense to me that my body has hit a wall. It held up and got the job done until it couldn’t, and then it gave out. There probably were, and still are, things I could have done differently to avoid getting to this point, but that's a little irrelevant now. Instead, I’m more interested in how I can honor my body and its limits in this season moving forward.

Here are a few things I’m doing to try to support my spirit as I come back to my baseline:

1. Keeping my therapy appointments

I am so tempted to cancel my appointments because the idea of adding one more optional thing to my calendar each week feels daunting. I also know that when I want to cancel my appointments is usually when I need them the most. Showing up, even when I don’t feel like it — especially when I don’t feel like it — helps me keep the wheels from falling off my life.

2. Staying connected

I don’t know about you, but when I’m feeling depleted — mentally, emotionally, or physically — my natural instinct is to isolate. I want to withdraw, to sit in silence, to hide from the people who might notice something is amiss. Ultimately, I know the level of isolation that I crave isn’t good for me, so I choose to intentionally push back against it.

3. Listening to my body

Rather than pushing through and trying harder, I’m listening to a body that is telling me it needs to rest. I’m giving myself permission to make guilt-free naps when possible. I’m letting myself soak in a warm bath while there are still things on my to-do list. I’m putting my bare feet in the grass and taking walks and letting myself enjoy the (slightly) cooler weather when my body wants to move or be outside.

4. Reading

One of the things that has always refueled me is immersing myself in a good book. Over the last few weeks, though, I’ve found myself in a reading slump. Although I’ve been reading quite a bit for a class I’m teaching this year, I haven’t been able to quiet my brain enough to sink into a book for personal enjoyment.

Earlier this week, I picked up Cabin by Patrick Hutchinson and have found myself gripped by this memoir about the renovation of an off-grid cabin. (Is it surprising that I’m invested in a story about a remote cabin during a time when living in a remote cabin sounds particularly enticing? Probably not.) On deck, I have

Elizabeth Gilbert

’s new book, All the Way to the River.

None of these things have been magic fixes. They haven’t erased the exhaustion or lessened the vulnerability hangover I can’t seem to shake. But recognizing my limits and leaning into what is good and healthy for me reminds me that I’m human. In turn, that points me back to a God who promises us His strength when our own runs out.

If you’re running on empty right now and find yourself worn thin, I hope you’re able to choose some small ways to honor your own limits this week. I hope you’re able to lean into the things that fill you and fulfill you. I hope you remember who you are and whose you are. I’ll be over here doing the same thing.

In this with you,

Brittany

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Have you read Stories Our Scars Tell? If so, I’d love for you to leave a review on Amazon, Goodreads, or wherever you picked up your copy! You’re the best!