Fatigue Is Not the Same as Lazy

Learning to rest without guilt when your body says enough

For years, I accused myself of being lazy.

I wouldn’t have said that about another woman who was struggling. I probably would have been much kinder to her. But when it came to myself, that was the word that often ran through my mind.

Lazy.

The laundry would pile up. Dishes would sit in the sink overnight, something I have always hated. Sometimes I simply didn’t have enough energy to stand at the sink long enough to wash them.

And I would look at those dishes and think I should just get up and do it.

Push through.

Try harder.

There were meals to cook, a house to take care of, children and a husband I wanted to be present for. There were holidays and family gatherings and all the ordinary responsibilities of life.

I wanted to do those things.

That was the part I didn’t understand.

I wasn’t choosing not to do them because I couldn’t be bothered. I desperately wanted to have the energy to do them.

I just didn’t.

When Tired Doesn’t Begin to Describe It

Eventually, I was diagnosed with lupus, and suddenly some things began to make sense.

Fatigue is a common part of living with lupus, and while medication and learning how to take better care of myself have helped tremendously, fatigue is still part of my life. Some days are much better than others.

And “tired” really isn’t an adequate word for it.

Everyone gets tired. You stay up too late, work too hard in the garden, have a particularly busy week, or spend the day running errands. You’re tired. You get some sleep and recover.

Chronic illness fatigue can be something altogether different.

I once tried to explain it to a doctor by telling her I felt like a toddler who gets so exhausted that they finally just sit down in the middle of the floor and cry.

That was about as close as I could get. And frankly, there have been days when sitting on the floor and crying didn’t sound entirely unreasonable.

It’s a body, mind and soul heaviness that just presses you down.

Your body feels heavy. Thinking takes effort. Concentrating becomes difficult. Things that ordinarily wouldn’t seem demanding suddenly feel enormous.

And sleep doesn’t necessarily fix it.

The High Price of Pushing Through

Before I understood what was happening, my answer was usually to push harder.

After all, isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?

We women are awfully good at telling ourselves to keep going.

There are people depending on us. Dinner needs cooking. The laundry isn’t going to wash itself. Company is coming. Christmas is coming. Everyone else seems to be managing, so surely we can manage too.

Except sometimes we can’t.

I remember one Christmas when we were supposed to host our family. I had spent the week preparing—doing all those things we do to make Christmas special.

By the time Christmas arrived, I was so sick from the effort that we had to cancel.

I had pushed myself trying to make everything happen for the people I loved, only to become too ill to enjoy the day with them.

That wasn’t the only time I learned that lesson.

Pushing beyond my limits could leave me completely depleted, with no reserves left. What I forced myself to accomplish in one day could cost me a week of crushing fatigue, pain and generally feeling ill.

Eventually, I had to ask myself a difficult question:

Was getting everything done today really worth losing the next week?

Rest Isn’t Something We Have to Earn

This has been one of the harder lessons for me to learn.

I still sometimes hear that old voice.

You’re being lazy.

There are things that need doing. There are always things that need doing.

Thankfully, I’m married to a man who reminds me that the world isn’t going to end if the chores slide for a day or two.

And, so far, he’s been right.

The world has continued turning despite dirty dishes.

The laundry has patiently waited for me.

Dust has shown remarkable resilience.

I’m learning that choosing to rest isn’t laziness. In my case, it’s actually being proactive.

A day—or sometimes two—spent resting may prevent a week or more of being completely out of commission.

I’ve learned that I can listen when my body whispers, or wait until it has to shout.

I’m getting better at listening to the whisper.

Sometimes a Rest Day Is Just a Rest Day

We’ve turned “self-care” into quite a production these days.

There are candles and bubble baths and journals and morning routines and all sorts of things we’re apparently supposed to do while taking care of ourselves.

My rest days aren’t nearly that impressive.

I rest.

I might do some reading. I might knit for a while if my hands aren’t hurting too much. I might binge-watch a television series and feel absolutely no obligation to make the experience educational.

And sometimes even the things that normally nourish my spirit have to become simpler.

A bad fatigue day usually isn’t the day for an in-depth Bible study. I may not have the mental bandwidth to follow a complicated passage or fill several pages in a prayer journal.

Sometimes my prayer is simply:

Jesus, help me.

I’ve come to believe He understands that prayer perfectly well.

God does not require eloquence before He listens to us. Nor do I believe He measures our faithfulness by how many things we manage to accomplish before bedtime.

There are seasons for doing.

And there are times when the wisest and most faithful thing we can do is rest.

Maybe You Needed to Hear This Too

Perhaps you live with lupus or another chronic illness. Maybe you’re dealing with chronic pain, an invisible illness, or another condition that means your energy doesn’t always match your intentions.

And maybe you’ve called yourself lazy too.

If so, I hope you’ll begin questioning that word.

There is a difference between not wanting to do something and wanting to do it but not having the physical or mental reserves.

There is a difference between giving up and recognizing your limits.

And there is a difference between laziness and rest.

It has taken me a long time to understand that.

I’m still learning.

There are days when I look around at what hasn’t been done and feel that familiar little tug of guilt. Sometimes I still need someone else to remind me that it’s okay to stop.

But I know something now that I didn’t know all those years ago.

My body isn’t my enemy.

It doesn’t need to be bullied into submission every time it asks for rest.

Sometimes caring for myself means paying attention before I’ve completely emptied the tank.

So if today is one of those days for you—if your body feels heavy, your thoughts are foggy and even ordinary things feel harder than they should—perhaps you don’t need another lecture about pushing through.

Maybe the dishes can wait.

Maybe the laundry can wait.

Maybe today you need a book, a comfortable chair, an old television series and a very simple prayer.

Jesus, help me.

And then rest.

Because fatigue is not the same as lazy.

And taking care of yourself today may be exactly what allows you to show up again tomorrow.