Fighting Fatigue

Fatigue can mean a lot of things. It can be physical, from a lack of sleep, too much stress, immune problems and diseases, and also emotional, resulting from depression. Sadly, it often occurs in the reverse order starting with depression, where the emotional and mental health eventually makes its way to the physical body. Suffering immense emotional pain along with the physical pains resulting from such anguish make the fight even more exhausting. I personally experience all of these, and I’m learning to pay attention to my body in order to identify which is which. Recently I suffer mental fatigue, my unconsciousness telling me what I don’t yet realize. There’s simply too much to think about, and perhaps I’m not wanting to go into a new territory, so I mentally and emotionally disconnect. 

Fighting fatigue is like trying to stay alive. 

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Mindlessly going through activities. Reading my bible but the words staying glued to the pages, scrolling through my favorite feed yet not feeling any different than if I sat doing absolutely nothing. Nothing enters; no word or image has any affect on me. It is read or seen, passing me by, leaving no sign of ever having been. Why am I even doing this?

Though nothingness is torture, I’d happily choose it over fatigue. Fighting fatigue is like trying to stay alive. It’s such a frustrating feeling to go about your daily activities in such a mundane, lifeless way. Whatever I do seems to be a waste, just numbness. Focus and emotional presence is such a luxury, the capability to read, to sit outside and mentally respond to my ideas. I would give anything to be mentally aware, to actively participate in what I’m doing.

I feel it coming. I fight back, trying anything to keep it from moving in and conquering my day, alas, conquering me. Oblivious that I’ve already lost the fight, I’ve become more than fatigued, I am lost in the craziness of desperation and perfectionism. I force myself to have my quiet time, turning what is meant to be a relationship into a religious duty. Nothing happens and I feel numb, therefore I add another criticism onto my lap. Finally realizing that this bible reading just isn’t going anywhere, I surrender as I realize the only one holding me to such a standard is myself. He’s looking at me, begging me to put down my bible and to just be. Just let it go and be with Him. It’s a relationship. I’ve learned so much about his personality in surrendering this area of my heart.

I give up the need to be perfect, the lie that I find Him only in reading, and the absolute craziness of doing every house chore possible in order to avoid that one thing; surrender. So I surrender to my mushy pillow and I give my body what it’s asking for; waking up new and refreshed half an hour later.