Some weeks stretch out far longer than the calendar suggests. This one has felt like that for me—busy, demanding, and threaded through with that low-level “not quite myself” feeling that makes everything just a little harder than it should be.
It’s funny how tiredness doesn’t always announce itself with drama. Sometimes it’s just the slow drip of small things: the extra email, the unexpected task, the moment you realise you’ve been pushing through instead of pausing. And before you know it, you’re running on fumes and hoping no one notices.
If that’s you too, then you’re in good company.
I’ve been reminding myself that it’s okay to admit when I’m not at my best. It’s okay to long for the weekend not because it’s full of plans, but because it offers the possibility of rest. A quiet corner. A cup of tea that doesn’t go cold. A chance to breathe and feel human again.
I’m hoping for a bit of that over the next couple of days—time to chill, reset, and let my body catch up with my intentions. Time to feel better, even if it’s only by a little. Healing rarely arrives in grand gestures; more often it comes in small mercies.
If you’re limping toward the weekend too, I hope you find your own pockets of peace. I hope you give yourself permission to rest without guilt. And I hope you remember that being worn out doesn’t mean you’re weak—it means you’ve been carrying a lot.
Here’s to gentler days ahead.
The Distinct Dot 