I don't feel like waking up

This morning when I opened my eyes, all I said inside was, "I really don't feel like waking up."

I am not talking about dying, about disappearing, about nothing having any meaning when I say this. Quite the opposite. There is still a lot in my life that I love. There are still jobs I want to do, places I want to see, people I want to talk to, books I want to read. But today I did not want to catch up with any of it. The moment I opened my eyes, the fact that life would ask things of me again felt heavy. As if the world had been waiting at the door before I had even come to myself, and it had a list in its hand again.

Get up.

Get ready.

Answer.

Catch up.

Think.

Decide.

Be well.

Keep going.

Sometimes what tires a person most is the sentence "keep going."

Because keeping going, seen from outside, is a very simple thing. Everyone keeps going. The sun rises, people go to work, buses set off, phones ring, emails arrive, meetings are held, shops open. Life starts again in the morning without caring at all how tired you were yesterday. The world does not ask your permission.

And sometimes, lying in bed, you think about all of this and feel that you will not be able to keep up with the speed of the world.

I think burnout is a bit like this.

It is not only a person no longer being able to do anything. It is not wanting to do it even though you have the strength to do it. Or rather, not wanting to do it because you know how much more of yourself you will have to give in return for doing it.

Because a burnt-out person is not lazy.

They have used themselves for a very long time.

Maybe for years.

They have taken care of things. They have kept up with people. They have fulfilled their responsibilities. They have done what was expected of them. When they could not, they felt guilty. They thought they could do better. They held on a little longer. They worked a little longer. They were patient a little longer.

Then one morning the body said what the mind did not dare to say:

I can't carry this anymore.

I think one of a person's biggest mistakes is to think their strength is unlimited.

Because you can lift everything for a while, you think you will always be able to lift it. People get used to you. You get used to yourself. "They'll handle it," people say. And you say, "I'll handle it." After a while handling becomes a part of your character.

When something happens, they come to you.

When there is a problem, you solve it.

When someone's morale is down, you pick them up.

When a job is not getting done, you get it done.

If a decision is to be made, you think it through.

So that something is not forgotten, you remember.

And one day you notice that you have a place in everyone's life, but the place you have set aside for yourself in your own life has gotten smaller and smaller.

Maybe burnout is a person having nothing left to set aside for themselves.

You find something to give to everyone.

When it comes to yourself, it is empty.

I understand this very well.

Sometimes when someone tells me something, I can listen to them. I can think about their trouble. I can even see what they should do. Looking at another person's life, my mind still works. I can still come up with solutions. I can still make strong sentences.

But when it comes to myself, there is only a silence inside me.

What should I do?

I don't know.

What do I want?

I don't know.

Why do I feel like this?

Maybe I know but I have no strength to tell it.

Sometimes a person's biggest tiredness comes from having to explain themselves.

"Are you okay?"

No.

"What's wrong?"

I don't know.

"Did something happen?"

Maybe.

"Tell me."

That is exactly where I want to go silent.

Because the story of some tiredness is very long. You do not know where to start. If you tell one thing, another comes after it. If you tell that, there is something else under it. Then you look up and, to explain today's tiredness, you need to go back years.

You do not want even that much.

You only want to rest a little.

Sometimes a person does not want to be untangled.

They only want to be left alone.

For a while, nobody asking anything of you.

For a while, not thinking about whether you are okay.

For a while, not trying to pull yourself together.

For a while, not putting your life in order.

For a while, not planning your future.

For a while, not answering the question "What will I do from now on?"

Just being.

In this age even just being is almost a luxury.

Because everything has to have an output. Even resting. If you exercise, it is to be healthier. If you read a book, to improve. If you travel, to gain experience. If you sleep, to be more productive. If you meet friends, to socialize.

As if a person is not allowed to do anything just for themselves.

Sometimes I get very tired of this.

I want to drink even a coffee as just a coffee.

To read a book without learning anything.

To sit one morning without making any plan.

To achieve nothing for a day.

Without being of use to anyone.

Without catching up with anyone.

Without impressing anyone.

Just living.

Maybe what a burnt-out person needs is not more motivation.

Maybe a little less load.

We understand this very late.

When we feel bad, we give ourselves new tasks.

Get up earlier.

Exercise.

Go on a diet.

Read books.

Put the phone down.

Meditate.

Plan your life.

Write your goals.

Invest in yourself.

Then, because we cannot do all of this, we feel like a failure once more.

Yet maybe what a person needs is not a new system.

It is for the system to stop for a while.

I am thinking about this today.

Maybe I need to stop being angry at myself.

Maybe I do not have to wake up with the same energy every morning.

Maybe I do not have to love my life every day.

Maybe sometimes, even when there are very beautiful things in my life, I may not have the strength to look at them.

This contradiction used to bother me.

It does not now.

Because a person's feelings are not a court ruling.

Loving something does not mean you can always set aside energy for it.

A life being beautiful does not mean you will never get tired inside that life.

Loving a person does not mean you will want to talk to them every day.

Loving your work does not mean you will never burn out while working.

Loving yourself does not mean you will be satisfied with every day you spend with yourself.

All of these can be true at the same time.

A person can be both grateful and tired.

Both happy and exhausted.

Both hopeful and unwilling.

A person can love their life and still not want to get out of bed one morning.

Maybe maturing is also learning not to make these contradictions enemies of each other.

Not drawing a conclusion from every feeling.

Not saying my life is bad if I am bad today.

Not thinking I want nothing if I do not want to do anything today.

Not thinking I have failed if I got tired today.

Because this is one of the places where a person is most merciless to themselves.

We take one day as the summary of our whole life.

I could not get up today.

So I am lazy.

I could not work today.

So I have no discipline.

I did not want to see people today.

So I have become lonely.

I did not enjoy anything today.

So there is something wrong with me.

No.

Maybe today is just today.

I want to say this to myself.

Today is just today.

If getting out of bed felt hard today, I will not see it as a decision made about my whole life.

Today I will slow down a little.

Because for a long time I have always measured life by speed.

How much did I do?

How much did I catch up?

How far did I progress?

How much did I earn?

How much did I produce?

How much did I achieve?

Maybe it is time to ask another question.

What happened to me while I was doing all of this?

This question is a little frightening.

Because a person can sometimes lose themselves even in the middle of their achievements.

Seen from outside, their life is moving forward.

Inside, the person is standing still.

Sometimes even going backward.

Nobody notices.

Because most burnt-out people keep doing their jobs.

They smile.

They answer.

They go into meetings.

They talk to people.

They go shopping.

Sometimes they are even very successful.

It is only that a place inside them quietly closes while they do all of this.

And one morning they open their eyes and do not want to go anywhere.

Maybe that morning the body is honest for the first time.

"I can't carry you anymore."

I do not want to see this as a failure.

Maybe it is not the body's rebellion.

Maybe it is a belated loyalty.

A very late loyalty a person shows to themselves.

Because we listen to ourselves last.

We hear everyone.

Ourselves last.

Today I want to hear myself a little.

I really don't feel like waking up.

Okay.

I do not have to fix this right away.

I can lie here a little.

I can stay quiet a little.

Then I will get up.

Maybe I will have a coffee.

Maybe I will not want to do anything.

Maybe I will be a little better in the afternoon.

Maybe I will not.

Today I do not have to know this either.

Because maybe a person starting to heal is not becoming able to do everything again.

Maybe it is being able, for the first time, to sit beside themselves without asking anything of themselves.

I want to do a bit of this today.

To sit beside myself.

Without fixing me.

Without criticizing me.

Without hurrying me up.

Just as I am.

Because for a long time I have always said this to myself:

Come on.

A little more.

Hold on.

Keep going.

Catch up.

Now, for the first time, I want to say something else.

Okay.

That is enough for today.

The world can wait.

Let me rest a little.