On this cold Friday morning, I awoke to a fresh blanket of snow and frigid temperatures. I am up early, with enough time for journaling, reading, and reflection.
On a whim, I felt drawn to a deck of sixty reflection cards. I drew one—and was startled to find it held only a single word: Exhaustion.
I was startled because “exhausted” was exactly how I felt. Just the night before, when I got home at 9 p.m. after a 14-hour day, and my husband asked how I was, I answered with that very word: Exhausted.
It feels paradoxical to me that in this season—when nature goes dormant, nights lengthen, and animals hibernate—we humans seem to do the opposite. We flood our homes with light, both inside and out. This may be the season of light, and it is also the season of heavy expectations.
- At work, we are furiously wrapping up end-of-year activities: rushing to finish final projects, pushing toward annual goals so we can “end strong,” all while preparing for weeks of vacation time by cramming four-and-a-half weeks of work into two or three.
- At home, we are decorating and cooking and baking and buying and wrapping and both hosting and attending celebrations.
The net result for myself and many others? Exhaustion, not exuberance. A growing dread of the to-do list, which has doubled or tripled in size. A rush to do all the things instead of allowing space for rest and restoration.
As with many challenges I face, this one is largely self-made—which also means it can be self-corrected.
I ask myself: What if the exhaustion I feel is not a weakness to overcome, not something to push through, not a test of endurance—but instead a guide? A signal inviting me to listen to my internal compass, the one gently nudging me to take a breath, take a walk, take a break. How do I listen before that nudge escalates from a gentle reminder to a hard shove that leaves me collapsed on the couch?
I remind myself that exhaustion carries within it the seeds of clarity about my true priorities. Simply getting clear on what matters most becomes the ultimate guide for what I say yes to, what I say no to, what I delegate, and what I consciously choose to do in ways that require far less time and energy.
Today, as I reflected on exhaustion, I came across this line (source unknown), which resonated deeply with me:
Rest may become a sacred action when approached with intention.
So what is the remedy for exhaustion?
Ideally, the proactive step is to not do all the things that lead us there in the first place. To be clear about our priorities—especially in this end-of-year season. To preemptively block time for rest, quiet, and what matters most. And then to say no to the rest.
The goal is to stop the energy drain while actively refilling the reserve.
The second part of the remedy is for those moments when we’ve already overextended, overworked, and find ourselves in—or teetering on—the edge of exhaustion. It begins with noticing the simple things that help us recharge and replenish. If you are like me, they are often surprisingly small and require very little.
Some examples that work for me:
- A brisk 10-minute walk
- Spending time outside
- A break in routine
- A conversation with someone who lifts my spirits
- Hydrating
- A 15-minute nap
- Playing upbeat or inspirational music (and maybe dancing a bit)
- A two-minute reset—closing my eyes and taking deep breaths for two minutes (harder than it sounds)
Here’s the paradox. We often label these actions as unproductive or as luxuries we don’t have time for—yet they are exactly what allow us to be more productive, effective, and mentally clear.
Two questions for you to contemplate:
- What specific activities or commitments drain your energy?
- What actions restore and nourish your mind, body, and soul?
And a special note for those who lead others: your willingness to nourish your own energy, in ways that are authentic to you, gives others permission to do the same.
Perhaps exhaustion isn’t asking us to do more—it’s quietly inviting us to finally do what matters.
