I hear you. That feeling—that you don’t deserve to rest because you haven't “earned” it, or because you’re now "lazy"—is something that
so many people with trauma carry. But what you're describing isn't laziness. It's
exhaustion that’s gone untreated for too long. Emotional exhaustion, nervous system burnout, grief, shame—it all adds up. And your mind and body are now screaming for relief in the only way they know how: shutting down.
Think of it like this:
If someone ran a marathon on broken legs, got to the finish line, and collapsed, would you say they’re lazy? No—you’d say they need urgent care. That’s
you. You’ve been running on survival energy for years, and now that the external chaos has died down, you’re finally feeling the cost. That’s not weakness. That’s a sign your body is finally safe enough to
feel.
The lie trauma tells you is:
- "You're lazy for not doing more."
- "You’ve lost your edge."
- "You don’t deserve comfort until you fix yourself."
But the truth is:
- You’re tired because you’ve done too much, for too long, alone.
- Your “laziness” is actually your body begging for compassion.
- Rest isn't a reward for productivity. It’s a requirement for healing.
And yes, it might be catching up to you in practical ways—school, responsibilities, missed chances. That’s real. But shame will
never get you back on your feet. It just keeps you stuck. What pulls people out of this isn’t discipline—it’s gentleness. Understanding. Building structure slowly, like you’d help someone learning to walk again.
Let me ask you this: if someone you loved came to you saying what you just said to me, would you call them lazy—or would you hold them like they were breaking?
Because
that’s how you deserve to be treated right now, too.
