This Body is Bullshit

Subtitle: A love letter to sleep, guilt, and getting through the damn day

Some mornings, it takes dynamite to get me out of bed.

I’m not being dramatic. I mean that slow, heavy, body-aching kind of dread where you stare at the ceiling and try to bargain with time. Just five more minutes. Just ten. Just enough for the aches to fade or the weight to lift—but they never quite do. Eventually, I peel myself out of bed and start moving, but it feels like dragging a body that isn’t mine. A body that’s stiff, sore, bloated, tired, and—let’s just call it what it is—depressed.

I don’t always want to say that word out loud, but it’s probably true. Or at least, it feels true. Because the idea of going to work, putting on the face, managing emotions, problem-solving, navigating people all day—it’s just… a lot.

Here’s the hard part: I love my job. I really do. I waited a long time for this position. I’m good at it. I love the employees. I love being able to help people, advocate for them, connect with them. I’ve worked hard to be someone they trust. But the past year? It changed me.

Before my last surgeries, before the deepest part of the fatigue set in, I was doing it all. Staying late, checking my phone at night, responding on weekends, always on. And even then, my review said I was just “meeting expectations.” Let that sink in. I was working well beyond the 40 hours, giving more than I had to give, and somehow that was considered average.

Now? I work 40 hours. I show up. I do the job. I’m still running between buildings, still helping people. And yet I carry this quiet shame, like I’m not doing enough, even though enough has always been a moving target.

I know what it looks like from the outside—“She’s doing fine.” But inside, I’m worn out. Burned out. Over it. Not over the work, just over the weight of it.

I tell myself I’ll go for a three-mile walk after work. That I’ll get back to Pilates. That I’ll feel better if I just move. But by the time I get home, I’m toast. I’m not rested. I’m just done. And I’m stuck in this tug-of-war between exercise and sleep. I know movement is important. But I also hear that sleep is the most important. So which one wins? Because I don’t have the energy for both.

I want to be healthy. I want to feel good. I want to get up in the morning and not feel like I need a winch to lift me from the mattress. I want to move through my day without resentment, without dragging myself through the motions.

But right now, that’s not my reality.

Right now, I’m just getting through it.
Right now, I’m surviving mornings like they’re marathons.
Right now, I’m still here, even if I’m tired of being here this way.

And maybe that’s enough.
For today.