Lately, I’ve been so tired it feels like my bones are charging rent.
But not just tired-tired.
Existentially tired.
Emotionally anemic.
Like there’s a low-grade dread buzzing in the background of everything — and it’s not just me.
This isn’t just burnout. It’s something else.
Like our bodies know something is off, even if our mouths can’t say it.

It’s Not Just Fatigue. It’s Forecasting.

That sense of "impending doom" — yeah, that one.
The vague “something bad is coming” fog that hangs around like a bad cough.
It doesn’t always mean disaster.
Sometimes it’s your nervous system waving a flag — trying to warn you that something is out of sync.
And because our bodies can’t send push notifications, they get creative:

• You’re suddenly wiped out, even after a full night’s sleep
• You feel like crying for no reason
• You’re zoning out mid-conversation, mid-task, mid-life

This is your system whispering:
“Something needs your attention.”

Step One: Name It Without Fixing It

The first remedy?
Not fixing it.
Just naming it.

• “I feel dread.”
• “I feel like something’s going to collapse.”
• “I feel like I’m waiting for a thing I can’t describe.”

According to Dr. Thema Bryant, naming our emotional state gives the brain something to hold — and helps the panic move through instead of circling.
It’s like telling the storm inside,
“Hey, I see you. You’re not crazy.”
(And neither are you.)

Take “P Space” — Not the Self-Care Kind, the Let-It-Suck Kind

No bubble baths here.
“P Space” stands for Processing Space. Not productivity. Not power moves. Not Pinterest boards.
Real space.
The kind where you give yourself permission to not be okay.

Where you let your body feel like garbage without forcing a lesson or a glow-up.
If you stop fighting the sadness, your body will eventually try to restore equilibrium.
Leaning into the discomfort is a trust fall.
Not into sadness, but into your body’s ability to not stay there forever.

Rest = Rebellion.

Not sleep.
Not numbing out.
Not a bubble bath with overpriced salts.

Real rest is the kind that lets your bones exhale.
The kind that isn’t about reward or recovery — but about right.

Rest is a radical act.
A refusal. A rebalancing. A quiet reclaiming of time that was stolen.

Capitalism doesn’t want you rested. Oppression doesn’t want you well.
Because a rested person remembers what they deserve.
Dreams. Plans. Connects. Resists.

Even if it’s imperfect.
Even if it’s five minutes in a car.
Even if it feels selfish.
Rest is not self-care. It’s a lifeline.

If all you can do today is nothing…
Make it sacred. Make it yours. Make it count.