What Counts When You’re Running on Empty
The Worthy Mindset: The truth about being strong, tired, and still showing up
There’s a particular kind of tired I’ve come to know intimately. It’s not the satisfying ache after hard work or the blurriness from a single sleepless night.
It’s quieter, more persistent. It lives beneath things, like a low, dissonant hum vibrating just under the surface of my days.
It’s there when I’m laughing with friends when I’m focused on a project I love, even when I’m supposedly resting.
A fog that rolls in without warning, a weight settling deep in my bones.
I used to fight it, try to diagnose it – was it depression? Burnout? Something medical?
Did I need some caffeine? Or is a trauma loop finally catching up?
Maybe it’s all of those, maybe none. The label stopped feeling important.
What felt crucial was the reality: this exhaustion was present, and fighting it only made me feel more depleted. Just when I think it is gone, it shows up again clearly in a small, unexpected way.
In a prior job, I’d made a habit of sending a quick morning check-in to a colleague – just "How are you?". A small gesture of connection. Then one week, the messages stopped. Not out of malice or forgetfulness, but because the energy required, however small, simply wasn't there. I was emotionally underwater, the low hum turned up too loud.
Part of me, the part conditioned to perform strength, felt a flicker of shame. Another part just felt… empty.
A few days later, I reached out again. His reply was brief, not unkind, but stark: “I don’t have time for this.” And in that moment, the mirror cracked wide open. I saw myself. Not in his boundary, but in the reflection of all the times I’ve been that person – clipped, preoccupied, offering shallow responses because the depth required felt impossible. I’ve shown up physically while being miles away emotionally.
It hit me then: I’ve inadvertently trained people not to expect vulnerability from me. By consistently performing reliability, by being the “strong one,” by minimizing my own needs even to myself, I’ve made it hard for others – and maybe even for myself – to recognize when I’m truly running on empty.
It’s not intentional hiding; it’s the ingrained habit of prioritizing function over feeling, of forgetting how to ask for support without feeling like a burden. We learn to keep the hum low, to manage the fog, until we forget what clear air even feels like.
🧠 Mindset Tool Section:
Listening Without Fixing
When you're profoundly tired, the pressure to "do" something—journal perfectly, meditate correctly, fix the feeling—can add another layer of exhaustion. Sometimes, the most potent practice is simply listening to yourself with radical permission, without demanding an immediate solution or improvement.
Why this matters: In seasons of low capacity, trying to force tools that don't fit can lead to self-judgment. This practice is about gentle self-witnessing. It builds trust by honoring your reality exactly as it is, reinforcing that your worth isn't contingent on your energy level or productivity.
How to begin (First-timer friendly):
Find Stillness (Briefly): You don't need a special cushion or quiet room. Just pause where you are for a minute. Let your gaze soften or close your eyes if that feels safe.
Acknowledge Gently: Silently, or in a journal if words feel accessible without pressure, simply acknowledge what’s present. Use plain language. "I feel exhausted." "There's a heavy feeling in my chest." "My mind feels foggy." No need to analyze why or what to do about it.
Offer Permission: Whisper internally, "It's okay to feel this way right now." Or, "Permission to be exactly where I am."
Let Go: Release the need for the feeling to change in this moment. The practice isn't fixing; it's simply noticing and allowing with a flicker of kindness.
🧰 Practical Application:
The Non-Striving Pause
This isn't about achieving calm or mastering breathwork. It’s a brief, compassionate check-in with your physical self, especially when energy is low.
A moment to simply be in your body without demanding it perform or change.
Wherever you are, consciously feel your feet on the ground or your body supported by the chair.
Let your shoulders drop, even just half an inch. Release any obvious tension in your jaw or brow.
Don't try to control your breath. Just notice it. Find where you feel the inhale and exhale, however shallow. Stay with it for a few cycles.
Scan your body quickly – where feels tightest or most tired? Without trying to fix it, gently bring your awareness there. Imagine creating just a tiny bit more space around that area. Breathe softly towards it.
This gentle attention reminds your nervous system you're present with your body, not just using it. It’s a non-demanding way to offer care and acknowledge your physical state without needing energy you might not have.
🌱 Emotional Echo
That low hum and bone-deep weariness? They might still linger even after a pause for reflection. I'm still navigating this myself. Some days, I find tools helpful, while on other days, all I can manage is to stare out the window.
What’s changing isn’t necessarily the exhaustion itself but the harsh judgment I used to place on top of it. I'm learning, slowly and imperfectly, that the real work isn’t always about fixing things or finding a magic solution.
It’s about being willing to meet myself honestly, exactly where I am—not fully rested, not completely clear—but still listening, still here, and pushing forward.
This isn’t a stop or a reason to give up or permission to just stop; it’s an understanding of where we are and giving ourselves permission not to force ourselves to feel differently.
We need to find a way to push forward and remember to let others know if we are struggling to take that next step.
And maybe, just maybe, that counts as something profound.
Let these questions sit gently with you; no pressure to answer, just quiet consideration:
Where have I been pretending I’m fine because I don’t know what else to be?
If I could be truly honest, just with myself, about how tired I am, what would I say?
What small act of simply being (not doing) could I allow myself today?
Your experience matters. If this resonates, please share your own reflections in the comments. Sometimes just knowing we're not alone in the fog makes the weight a little easier to carry.
Let's create that space for each other.
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Thanks Rich I loved the insights!
Rich, this is majestic and useful. Too often I’m so good at engaging with others I end up neglecting engagement with Me, the guy right here.