Why You're So Tired (and It's Not Just Burnout)

You’re not tired because you’re lazy.
You’re tired because you’ve been shrinking.

Shrinking to be liked.
Shrinking to keep the peace.
Shrinking to be digestible, manageable, palatable.

You’re not broken, love.
You’re just exhausted from trying to hold in the galaxy that lives inside you.

I’ve felt it in my bones — the kind of tired that rest doesn’t touch.
Not a lack-of-sleep tired. Not even burnout, exactly.
It was like my entire being was weighed down by something invisible and relentless.

My body felt heavy, like I had to negotiate with it just to move.
And my brain? It was constantly nagging me — "Why can’t you just be normal? Why can’t you keep up like everyone else?"
Spoiler alert: that voice wasn’t mine.
It was a million echoes of a world that taught me to believe I wasn’t enough — or worse, that I was too much.

And I believed it.
I believed that if I was just better — faster, more focused, more pleasing — I wouldn’t feel this way.

But I wasn’t tired because I wasn’t good enough.
I was tired because I was leaking energy at every turn.
And I had no idea.

I’ve Always Been a Bit of a Rebel…

...but I spent years doing everything in my power to fit in.

I wanted to be the right kind of woman. The good girl. The one people would accept.
Even as I dyed my hair wild colours and wore wild outfits to scream “I’m different!” on the outside — inside, I was bowing to every rule I thought would keep me safe and seen.

I chose my education based on what others praised me for.
I took every compliment as a command:
"You’re good at that!" → “Okay, I’ll do more of it! You like me, right?”
I hunched my shoulders. I nodded along.
I ignored myself.
I didn’t know myself.

Not really.

Because no one had ever told me I was allowed to ask what I wanted.

When “Sweet” Started to Feel Like a Slap

The first flicker of rebellion came from a tiny moment.
Someone close to me said, “You’re too sweet, you know.”

It hit me like a gut punch.
Because I didn’t want to be seen as sweet.
I didn’t feel sweet.

But they were right.
Not because I was genuinely kind and warm (though I am).
But because I had no boundaries. No standards. No spine.
I was sweet because I had trained myself to accommodate.

That was the beginning.

The real shift came years later, in my thirties, through a friendship that changed everything.
She showed me what belonging felt like.
She trusted me with her vulnerable truth. And that moment cracked something open in me — a tiny sliver of permission to start being honest with myself.

From there, it became a practice.
Of calling my energy back.
Of noticing where it was leaking — mostly into performance and pretending.
Of asking: what if I stopped trying to earn my place here?

It Wasn’t Burnout — It Was Disconnection

I started to see how much of my exhaustion wasn’t from doing too much —
but from abandoning myself constantly.

People-pleasing?
It’s an Olympic sport in energy leakage.
And no one gives you a medal.

I got angry.
I grieved the years I’d spent living in reaction to other people’s opinions.
And I began to see something radical:

Self-worth isn’t a trait. It’s a practice.
And I could learn it.

Coming Back to Myself (And My Body)

At first, it looked like breakdowns.
Then glimmers.
Now, it looks like coming home, over and over again.

I started small.
I didn’t know how I felt most of the time.
So I told my husband, “I want to practise feeling.”
I’d say things like:
"I feel a knot in my stomach after reading that message."
Or, “Baking pancakes is giving me joy today.”

It was clumsy and weird and so liberating.

Because I finally started listening to me.

And once I had words for how I felt, I could start deciding how to respond.
Not reacting out of guilt or habit.
Not silencing myself before I even noticed what I needed.

That’s when I started saying “no.”
Softly. Cautiously.
At first, I’d buffer it — “Let me check my calendar”, “I’ll get back to you”.
And even those tiny no’s triggered panic in my body.
I had to sit with it.
Teach myself that I wasn’t being cruel. I was being real.

And that was enough.

Stop Shrinking. Start Rising.

Energy flows where your focus goes.
And if your focus is on pleasing, proving, managing, fixing —
Your energy is pouring into everyone but you.

You deserve to feel your own power again.
You deserve to rest without guilt, say no without panic, and take up space without apology.
You deserve to rise in your own rhythm.

It starts with noticing how you feel.
Not with fixing everything — just noticing.
That awareness is the first reclamation.

Because from there, you get to decide.
And that, love, is the real rebellion.

Want a Taste What Rising Feels Like?

This month, I’m opening the doors to the Feel Good Rebel Academy — my signature membership for women and magical misfits who are done shrinking and ready to reclaim their joy, confidence, and worth.

But first, I’m offering a little sneak peek.
A taste of the magic.
No pressure, no performance — just a soft place to begin.

✨ Join the waitlist here →
Let that be your first tiny yes to taking your energy back.

You’re not broken. You’re rising.
And you don’t have to do it alone.