Exhausted is no virtue
~ deep into our week, or late into our life, a slower pace is both a feature and benefit
Running low and running late are not the same thing.
One is a clock problem.
The other, a life problem.
Confusing them turns a tired day into a personal indictment, which is neither fair nor appropriate.
By Friday, the world feels louder, faster, and dumber, even when nothing actually changed.
Feeling low energy shrinks our patience and could easily turn every headline into a personal attack or burden.
Running low and running late aren’t the same.
Running for office, running for the train.
Running out of time. Running out of patience.
Running on fumes.
Running an argument in our head like we are on a treadmill,
one we cannot get off.
Then the opening fades, and the day shows up the way days do.
I am eating leftover pizza for breakfast, kudos to Varsity Pizza.
Friday morning is not a morality play.
It is a time and task management problem.
The sky is still deciding when the cold of overnight will be warmed by sunrise and the expected morning snow …
Coffee first. Then a plan. Then the rest of whatever this is.
Here is the thing I keep forgetting, and maybe you do too.
Being late is a moment.
Being low is a condition.
Late is missing a turn; low is having no fuel to take the next one.
By the end of the week, a lot of us will not be behind ~ we are depleted. We talk about productivity as if it is a moral virtue, and we talk about pace as if it is a personality trait, but low energy is not a character flaw. It is a finite resource that gets spent, whether we are spending it wisely or not.
When I am running low, everything feels sharper.
The inbox feels heavier. The news feels darker. The smallest delay feels like a personal insult. People’s opinions feel louder than they deserve to be. My own opinions feel louder, too. I start writing mental speeches to strangers who did not ask for them.
That is not insight.
That is fatigue wearing a suit.
So, a question for you, straight up.
What are you running low on today, and what have you been pretending you can outwork?
When energy is low, the world becomes a loud room with too many screens.
You can feel it in the way the week ends. The political theatre, the media circus, the constant churn of drama and comedy packaged as urgency. It all arrives as farce and fear, and it never stops long enough to let anyone think.
I am not going to name a single cause; this is not about this week’s villain. It is about the machinery. It is about the way the loudest voices rent space in our minds, while our actual lives, our families, our work, and our responsibilities sit quietly in the corner waiting for attention.
Low energy makes it worse because it removes our need for shock absorbers. When we are rested, we can observe the nonsense with some distance. When we are depleted, we absorb it like a bruise.
So, the move is not to fix the world before lunch.
The move is smaller, and it is more honest.
Name what is true.
I am running low today. Not on hope, not on purpose, not on care. I am running low on fuel. That matters because it changes what the day can carry.
When you are low, our choices need to be simpler. Not because we are weak, but because, along the way, we found some wisdom.
Pick one thing that actually matters and do it cleanly.
Pick one conversation that is real, not performative.
Pick one small act that refills you, even a little. A walk. A glass of water. A quiet ten minutes with no inputs.
A decision to stop doom-scrolling like it is a civic duty.
And here is the part that feels almost offensive in a culture that worships speed.
We are allowed to slow down without apologizing.
We are allowed to take our foot off the gas before the engine fails.
We are allowed to say, “Not today,” to something that does not deserve our last ounce of attention.
The calendar will keep pushing.
The world will keep shouting.
The circus will keep touring.
We get to choose what runs our day.
When running low, the most important action is choosing what follows and refusing to hand your remaining energy to anyone or anything that does not deserve it.
