What Exhaustion Is Trying to Tell Us

Lately, I’ve noticed how deeply exhausted many of us are.

It is not just physical tiredness, though there is certainly plenty of that. But a deeper kind of exhaustion.

So many conversations include big exhales and, “I’m just tired.”

People say it casually now, almost instinctively. We say it while laughing with friends, answering emails, standing in grocery store lines, beginning Zoom calls, dropping our kids off at school. It has become such a familiar part of life that many of us barely pause long enough to ask what kind of tiredness we are actually carrying.

Some exhaustion comes from obvious things: grief, caregiving, stress, parenting, uncertainty, overwork, illness, transition. Some of it comes from carrying too much for too long without enough support. Life is full and life is hard.

But there is another kind of exhaustion too — the kind that grows slowly when we become disconnected from ourselves.

Exhaustion surfaces in a variety of ways: difficulty concentrating, emotional numbness, irritability, cynicism, scrolling endlessly without really wanting to, feeling strangely absent from your own life.

And unfortunately, this happens in a world that rewards over-functioning. Many of us have learned how to keep going long after we are tired. We learn to push through. To be productive. Helpful. Reliable. Efficient. Available.

I don’t think exhaustion is always a sign that we are doing something wrong. Sometimes it is simply the soul’s way of saying: something needs attention.

Our bodies and souls eventually speak when they have been ignored for too long.

Sometimes exhaustion is trying to tell us that we need rest. Sometimes it is inviting us to grieve. Sometimes it is revealing that we have been living too disconnected from our limits, our desires, our creativity, our relationships, or the presence of God within us.

Exhaustion is not just about needing sleep. Sometimes it is about needing reconnection.

I think many people are walking through life profoundly disconnected from themselves without even realizing it. We move quickly from task to task, responsibility to responsibility, screen to screen, and eventually lose touch with what is happening inside us.

We stop noticing our own sadness, longing, loneliness, joy. We become skilled at functioning while remaining emotionally and spiritually absent.

And because our culture tends to value productivity over presence, we often interpret exhaustion as a personal failure instead of important information.

We assume we should simply manage ourselves better or try harder or find the perfect routine.

But exhaustion is not always something to conquer. Sometimes it is something to listen to.

In the Gospels, I’m struck by how often Jesus noticed people’s limits. He invited rest. He withdrew from crowds. He stepped away from constant demands. He did not treat human limitation as weakness to overcome, but as part of being human.

The invitation to rest is not a reward for finally getting everything done.

It is part of how we remain connected to ourselves, to creation, to God, and to one another.

I think one of the dangers of chronic exhaustion is that eventually we stop noticing what restores us. We become so accustomed to surviving that we forget how to receive.

And restoration is often smaller and more subtle than we expect. It may not arrive through dramatic life changes or perfectly curated morning routines. Sometimes restoration begins with very small acts of attention.

A slow walk. Turning off notifications. Making tea. Allowing yourself to take a cleansing breath before shifting into a different place. A conversation where you do not have to perform. Prayer without an agenda.

Recently, I’ve been trying to notice the small things that help me reconnect with myself and with God. I am not talking about distractions that help me temporarily escape my life, but practices that help me become present to it again.

Things like sitting outside for a few quiet minutes, watercolor painting, pausing before and after meetings/appointments, running, savoring my food, slowing down enough to breathe before responding, honest conversation with friends.

None of these things are dramatic. But they restore my soul.

What if exhaustion is not simply a disruption to your spiritual life?

What if paying attention to your exhaustion is part of your spiritual life?

What if exhaustion is inviting you:

• back toward your limits

• toward honesty

• toward rest

• toward grief

• toward compassion

• toward reconnection with your own life

If you want to, I invite you to pause and reflect on these questions.

• Where am I exhausted right now?

• What have I been carrying for too long?

• What is my exhaustion trying to tell me?

• What restores my soul — not just distracts me?

• What would compassion toward myself look like this week?

You do not have to answer these questions quickly. Reflect slowly and deeply, in a way that feels good for you.

You can write your responses in a journal, share about them with a trusted friend, or even reply to this via email or the comments section.

As always, I am here alongside you, sitting with these questions. I am a fellow seeker, explorer, and practitioner of everything I share here.

Larissa

For more ways to connect with me:

• The Serene-ish Podcast with Brenda and Larissa

• Spiritual Direction, Enneagram Coaching, and Soul Care: larissamarks.com

• My monthly newsletter with simple soul care practices and support in your faith journey: Notes From Larissa

• Instagram: @larissalmarks