Have you ever been so tired that you started wondering if you were actually tired… or just tired of life?
Have you ever looked at your to-do list and thought, I absolutely need to get all of this done today—and then immediately decided a nap sounded like a much more responsible adult decision?
Or have you ever been lying in bed thinking about everything you should be doing, while somehow doing absolutely none of it?
Because lately, that has been me.
And I honestly don’t know why.
For the last few weeks, I have been sleeping a lot more than usual.
Normally, I’m pretty consistent. I go to bed around 11 PM and wake up around 6 or 6:30 in the morning. But lately, I’ve been going to bed closer to midnight or 1 AM and waking up somewhere between 6 and 7.
Which, now that I’m writing this down, probably isn’t helping.
Apparently, sleep works better when you actually participate in it.
But yesterday and today, something felt different.
I’ve been taking more naps during the day. I’m tired more often. And the part that concerns me isn’t necessarily the sleeping.
It’s what comes with it.
I’m starting to feel less motivated.
Things I normally want to accomplish suddenly feel heavy.
I have things to do. I have goals. I have responsibilities. I have dreams I’m actively chasing.
My to-do list certainly hasn’t lost motivation.
That bitch is thriving.
Every morning she’s sitting there waiting for me like, “Good morning! Remember the 47 things you didn’t finish yesterday?”
Meanwhile, I’m staring back at her thinking, Would you mind coming back after my nap?
And that’s when I started asking myself:
Am I actually physically tired?
Am I overwhelmed?
Am I depressed?
Is my sleep schedule screwing me up?
Or is it because Los Angeles has been so hot and humid lately that simply walking outside feels like being steamed at a Korean spa against my will?
I don’t know.
Maybe it’s a combination.
But I’ve realized something about myself over the years.
When I start feeling really down, I want to sleep.
Sleep becomes an escape.
Because when you’re asleep, you don’t have to think about the things you’re worried about.
You don’t have to think about your responsibilities.
You don’t have to wonder whether you’re succeeding or failing.
You don’t have to hear that annoying little voice in your head asking:
“What are you doing with your life?”
She’s asleep too.
Thank God.
But eventually, you have to wake up.
And this morning, I woke up with anxiety already sitting on my chest.
Today was my final class at The Groundlings.
It was the last day of my six-week class, which meant it was also evaluation day.
And here’s where the anxiety really kicked in.
I’ve already taken this level twice.
If I don’t pass this time, it will be my third time not passing.
My teacher explained that after three unsuccessful attempts, there can be a significant waiting period before returning to the program.
So naturally, my brain responded to this information in the healthiest way possible:
PANIC.
This morning, I did not want to go.
Not because I don’t care.
Actually, the exact opposite.
I think sometimes we avoid things precisely because we care so much.
If something doesn’t matter to you, failure isn’t that scary.
But when you really want something?
Suddenly your brain starts negotiating with you.
Maybe we shouldn’t go.
Maybe we’re too tired.
Maybe this isn’t meant for us.
Maybe we should stay home.
Maybe Netflix has an improv program.
Unfortunately, Netflix does not currently give certificates for sitting on the couch, so I got dressed and drove to class.
I arrived about ten minutes early.
And because I was so exhausted, I did something completely ridiculous.
I took a ten-minute nap in my car.
Ten minutes.
Who takes a ten-minute nap before an improv final?
Apparently, me.
I basically pulled into the parking lot and told my nervous system, “Listen, bitch. You’ve got nine minutes. Shut everything down.”
And somehow…I woke up.
I got out of the car.
And I walked into class.
Was I suddenly motivated?
No.
Did my anxiety magically disappear?
No.
Did I suddenly feel confident that I was going to pass?
Absolutely not.
I just went anyway.
And maybe that’s the part I’ve been thinking about the most today.
We talk so much about motivation.
People tell us to “stay motivated.”
Watch motivational videos.
Read motivational books.
Put inspirational quotes on the wall.
Wake up at 5 AM.
Drink green juice.
Journal.
Meditate.
Manifest.
Meanwhile, some mornings I’m just trying to manifest myself out of the fucking bed.
But I’m beginning to think motivation is overrated.
Because motivation comes and goes.
Some days I wake up ready to conquer the world.
Other days I wake up and the greatest accomplishment of my morning is finding the TV remote without getting off the couch.
If my entire life depended on motivation, I would probably accomplish about 40 percent of my goals.
Maybe 32 percent if it’s humid.
The thing that keeps changing my life isn’t motivation.
It’s movement.
Tiny movement.
Sometimes embarrassingly tiny movement.
Get out of bed.
Take the shower.
Answer the email.
Drive to class.
Take the ten-minute parking-lot nap if you have to.
Then get out of the damn car.
That’s it.
Because I’ve learned that you don’t always have to feel strong to keep going.
You just have to keep going.
And yes, sometimes I have a pity party.
I cry.
I get frustrated.
I question myself.
Sometimes I give myself an entire day to feel sorry for myself.
There are snacks.
There may be pajamas.
It’s a very exclusive event.
Attendance: one.
But eventually the party has to end.
Because nobody is coming to drag me toward the life I want.
I have to choose it.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Even when I don’t feel like it.
Tomorrow or Friday, I’ll find out whether I passed my Groundlings class.
Maybe I passed.
Maybe I didn’t.
Obviously, I hope I did.
But there’s something I’m trying to remind myself before I get that answer:
A result doesn’t determine whether I was brave enough to show up.
I showed up tired.
I showed up anxious.
I showed up questioning myself.
I showed up after taking a freaking ten-minute nap in my car.
But I showed up.
And maybe somebody reading this is in that place right now.
Maybe you’re exhausted.
Maybe your mind feels overloaded.
Maybe you’re scared you’re going to fail at something.
Maybe you don’t feel motivated anymore.
Maybe everybody around you thinks you’re doing great while internally you’re wondering why getting through a normal day suddenly feels so difficult.
I don’t have a magical answer for you.
I’m still figuring out my own answer.
And if this exhaustion and low mood keep hanging around or getting worse, I’m not going to pretend that determination alone fixes everything. Sometimes taking care of yourself also means talking to someone, checking on your physical health, or asking for help.
Faith doesn’t mean pretending everything is fine.
Strength doesn’t mean never getting tired.
And perseverance doesn’t mean you’re never allowed to fall apart.
Sometimes perseverance looks like crying today and trying again tomorrow.
That’s the lesson I keep learning.
You don’t have to feel motivated to move forward.
Sometimes you make the decision first, and your feelings catch up later.
Give yourself permission to rest.
Give yourself permission to cry.
Give yourself permission to have the pity party.
Hell, put out some chips and dip.
Just don’t move into the party permanently.
At some point, wipe your face.
Put your shoes back on.
Open the door.
And take one more step.
You don’t have to conquer your entire life today.
Sometimes the victory is simply refusing to quit.
And today, my victory was getting out of that car.
We’ll find out soon whether I passed the class.
But regardless of what that email says, I know one thing:
I showed up.
And sometimes showing up when every part of you wants to hide is its own kind of win.
Remember you are my lovers, whether you love me or love to hate me you are still my lover!
Don’t forget Jesus loves you and so do I!