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I’m Tired, Not Lazy: Why Rest Is Survival, Not Weakness

There’s a unique kind of exhaustion that comes from pretending you’re okay. From the outside, I look fine—maybe even successful. I’m showing up, smiling in meetings, helping with homework, responding to messages with a cheery “I’m good!” But inside? It’s like trying to hold back a flood with my bare hands.

I have what some people call high-functioning depression. That phrase feels misleading. It sounds like I’m managing well, but what it really means is that I’m quietly drowning in plain sight. It’s exhausting to keep it up, to hold things together when what I need—desperately—is to stop.

But how do you rest when life doesn’t slow down?

We’re Taught to Push Through

I’m a parent. I have a job. Bills. Deadlines. School runs. I can’t just “take a break” when I’m juggling all this, right? It feels selfish to even think about pausing. Society rewards people who keep going. We praise those who “power through,” even when they’re breaking on the inside. We applaud the supermoms, the tireless employees, the friends who are always there.

But what if we’re just tired? Not lazy. Not unmotivated. Tired in a way sleep doesn’t fix.

I used to ignore the signs—brushing off the heaviness in my chest, the racing thoughts at night, the irritability that made me snap at my kids when they left crumbs on the table. “It’s just stress,” I told myself. “Everyone’s stressed.” But deep down, I knew this wasn’t the kind of tired that a weekend off could fix. This was burnout. Depression. And it was getting worse.

When Mental Health Struggles Stay Hidden

The scariest part? No one saw it. I was still showing up. My kid’s homework was still getting done. I smiled at work, delivered projects, even cracked jokes. From the outside, there was no red flag.

Inside? I was screaming. And no one could hear me because I was so good at hiding it.

The hardest thing about high-functioning depression is that it lies to you. It tells you you’re not “sick enough” to ask for help. You’re still working, aren’t you? You’re still getting the kids to school, right? So you don’t need a break. You don’t need help. Others have it worse.

But here’s what I’ve learned: waiting until you break isn’t strength. It’s survival on the edge.

Rest Isn’t a Luxury—It’s a Lifeline

There was a point when I realized I couldn’t keep going like this. I wasn’t showing up for my family the way I wanted to. I was impatient. Snapping over little things. Crying alone in my car after drop-off. And worst of all, I didn’t see a way out—other than to disappear.

I’ve read those headlines. Parents who seem “fine” one day, and then something unthinkable happens the next. Mental health is a quiet crisis in so many families. I didn’t want to be one of those stories. I didn’t want my children to be another name people whisper about.

So I made a choice. I asked for help. I told my doctor the truth. And yes, I took time off work. I gave myself permission to rest, even when it felt like I didn’t deserve it.

How I’m Learning to Rest (and You Can Too)

Rest isn’t just about sleep. It’s about reclaiming space to breathe again. Here’s what’s helping me, and maybe it’ll help you too:

1. I Take Mental Health Days
   Not because I’m weak, but because I need them. Sometimes I write myself a sick note—metaphorically—and log off.
2. I Talk About It (Even When It’s Scary)
   With my partner. With close friends. I say, “I’m struggling today.” I let them show up for me.
3. I Lower the Bar
   On bad days, surviving is enough. I’m not winning parent of the year. I’m not smashing goals. But I’m here. I’m alive. That counts.
4. I Prioritize Therapy and Medication
   Therapy saved my life. Medication helped me find my balance. Both are tools, not crutches.
5. I Forgive Myself
   For not being perfect. For not being everything to everyone all the time.

Asking for Help Isn’t Weakness. It’s Survival.

If this is you—if you’re tired in your bones, tired of pretending you’re fine—please hear me: you are allowed to rest. You are allowed to say, “I can’t do this alone.” You are allowed to ask for help.

I’m still learning how to slow down. But each time I choose to rest, each time I say no to another demand, I’m choosing life. I’m choosing to be here for my kids. For myself.

Because rest isn’t lazy. Rest is survival.