Why You’re So Tired: Your Reservoir Is Running Dry

When you view all flavors of tired the same, it’s difficult to address your symptoms. So what are the two types of tired we’re talking about today?

Too-much-tired and too-little-tired. You know you’re suffering from too-much tired if you’re feeling depleted and worn-out. Whereas if you’re feeling more emptiness or lacking purpose, you’re feeling too-little-tired.

Too-much-tired happens when you have too much to do in the time allotted. Too-little-tired happens when you have too little energy in your tank to get things done.

Too-much tired: depleted

When you feel too-much-tired, your resources are being drained faster than you can fill them up. Your resources are things like your energy, your creativity, or your ability to get things done. Think of this state of tired like the reservoirs in the Western United States.

Lake Powell (which isn’t really a lake, but actually a dam-created reservoir) is slowly draining because the farms, cities and power systems downstream keep drawing from the reservoir faster than snowpack and rain can fill it up. As Lake Powell drops too low, the turbines inside the dam can no longer spin fast enough to generate electricity for the millions of people who need it.

That’s about to be a BIG problem for all of us in The West. There’s not a good answer for powering those small, rural farms. How will they grow the food that you and I eat if they can’t get any water?

 

Your reservoir gets drained too

When you are suffering from too-much tired, your reserves are being drained faster than you can fill them up as well. It’s hard to create a nice dinner because you weren’t able to get to the grocery store. Or, you don’t have time to plan what you want to make, so, even if you got to the store, you didn’t realize you are out of flour and vanilla.

Now those cookies, that were going to be a nice treat won’t get made and, in addition to being tired, now you also feel deprived.

 

Where are the places in your life that you are draining your reservoir faster than you’re able to fill it? Here are a few likely places:

• Feeding yourself and your family
• Dealing with money
• Balancing work life with home life
• Your sleep bank account
• Making decisions; otherwise known as decision fatigue

For the communities downstream of Lake Powell, some day they will be out of river water to irrigate their crops, or there won’t be electricity to power their lights. What are the downstream consequences of your resource drainage?

I don’t have a solution for Lake Powell, but I do have some ideas for how to find the metaphoric river to refill your reservoir. We will talk about ideas for filling up your reserves in a little bit but first let’s talk about the other kind of tired: too-little tired.

 

Too-little-tired: empty

When you feel too-little tired, instead of your resources draining away, you actually lack resources altogether. You feel empty. Think of this state of tired like a deep, dark hole. You can’t see to find your way out, and even if you could see the way, you can’t get purchase on anything because the walls are too slippery.

You feel stuck. Stagnant.

 

Where are the places in your life that you might be too-little-tired, and, as a result you’re feeling empty, stuck, or stagnant?

• You feel unseen; like nobody really knows you or values what you do
• There’s little or no challenge to give your life meaning
• There might be lots of work, but there’s very little joy in your life
• You’ve had a crisis like a death or a loss that blinds you to your life purpose

 

This cave of darkness is really tough

The dark cave of emptiness is a matter of degree, right? If you are like most people, you’ve experienced a season of your life where you felt lost in this type of darkness. It can be scary. I want to offer you some hope by talking about the different flavors of tired and what you can do to help yourself. This is the first in a series of four episodes.

I’ve experienced both kinds of tired at different times in my life. Next week, we’ll talk about how I floated my way out of the cave of emptiness that is too-little-tired. Today I’ll tell you the story of too-much tired in my life. As I tell you my story, ask yourself, “When have I experienced something similar?”

 

The story of my draining reservoir: too-much-tired

First, I’ll tell you the story of my draining reservoir.

When my husband first started his journey to become a doctor, we moved into student housing. I had a 3-year-old and a brand-new baby who had asthma and trouble breathing. My stepfather (who was my mother’s caretaker) fell ill and ended up in the ICU, so even though I’d just moved, I packed up my newborn, my three-year-old, and moved my new family of four in with my mother to care for her, visiting my stepfather in the ICU after I’d gotten everyone asleep for the night.

The ICU is filled with a juxtaposition of fluorescent, bright lights, and the imposing darkness of death. One night I walked in to hear the cardiac surgeon tell me my stepfather he wouldn’t live without quadruple bypass surgery.

I tried to shake away the fogginess from my newly postpartum brain. How will I care for both of my parents and this newborn, I wondered. “How soon will you perform the surgery,” I asked.

“Oh. I haven’t offered the surgery yet,” replied the doctor.

“But didn’t you just say he wouldn’t live without it?” I asked.

“Yes. But he is alive now.” The surgeon carried a clipboard. I remember him tucking it under his arm at this moment. “The chances of him dying in that surgery are greater than 90%.” Suddenly I was in a dark tunnel. Even the brilliance of the fluorescent lights went out. I begged that surgeon to perform the surgery. Begged and begged and begged. “I’ll need to know that his wife wants that as well,” he said.

 

The moment I felt total exhaustion

I walked out into the darkness of night and drove back to my mother’s house to nurse my baby boy.

The next day I got both my children loaded into the car and drove my mother to the hospital. My stepfather, though struggling to breathe, was conscious, and we all decided together that surgery was the best option, even though his chances looked grim.

My mother hugged her husband, and I took her home.

An hour later I smelled something funny. Then I saw smoke. My mother, in attempt to make herself some tea, had turned on the wrong burner. On top of the lit burner was a cake-sized Tupperware container that held my mother’s homemade orange rolls.

 

The orange rolls of my childhood

My mother lived during the era of Tupperware ladies. She probably bought this Tupperware container from a neighbor while hosting a Tupperware party. I imagine the pigs-in-a-blanket snacks and the bundt cake she prepared to host her friends who also bought Tupperware that day.

For the next 4 decades my mother filled that cake-sized Tupperware with her famous orange rolls. Frozen orange juice concentrate was the key ingredient in the filling. I watched as she rolled out a huge slab of bread dough, then I was allowed the spread on the buttery-orangey goo before we rolled them up, cinnamon roll style.

I ate them by unrolling them, saving the best bite—the very center with the most filling—for last. Orange rolls were the quintessential taste of my childhood.

And here was that nourishing Tupperware, melting and smoking, and smelling like burning plastic rather than the last batch of orange rolls my mother ever made.

I put out the fire, then slumped on the linoleum kitchen floor and cried.

I felt overwhelmed and completely exhausted. I was a wet washcloth all rung out. Drained. Beyond depleted.

 

When have you felt completely depleted?

When have you wanted to say, “But I don’t want to be a grown up?”

Being a grown up is at the heart of many people’s too-much-tired. Adulting is Big Work! And it can deplete your resources like nothing else.

And.

Often all that adulting means your life is filled with purpose and meaning. This will be an important distinction next week when we talk about too-little-tired.

 

Find your river

I had all these people depending on me: my brand-new baby was nursing. I was his sustenance. My stepfather needed me to be his lifeline between the ICU and the real world: connecting him to my mother as well as the cardiac physician. My mother needed me to drive her to the hospital, to comfort her, and to prevent her from burning down the house.

And then there was my 3-year-old who needed stories and sunshine. Sunshine and stories turned out to be my river of hydration as well as one of my responsibilities.

Now I’d like to tell you about the sustaining river I found that filled my reservoir in the midst of all that depletion and too-much-tiredness.

Here is a script you can use verbatim, or borrow from to make it your own:

Partner, I am tired. Not just tired like I need a good night of sleep tired. I’m concerned because I can feel my reservoir of resources is draining faster than I can keep it filled (or I feel lost in a dark cave and it’s hard for me to get myself motivated). I don’t want to become so depleted that I am unkind to you (or, if you’ve already been unkind, you can say, I’ve been unkind to you lately and I don’t want that to continue).

Would you be willing to listen to me talk about my experiences? I just need you to listen and not try to fix anything. My intention isn’t to blame you or to find fault at all, but rather my intention is to take an honest look at how my life is going, and how our shared lives are impacting me. Just so I can name what’s happening for me.

Would you be willing to take a walk with me (or sit with me on the sofa)? No phones. No distractions. Just a willingness to let me examine what’s happening for me and why I’m feeling tired?

Desire: The sustaining river

Each day, in addition to hospital runs and doctor discussions, I took my children to the park where I sat in the sand with the sun on my shoulders. I don’t think sunshine has ever felt so good.

I sat and sat. My daughter scooped up sand and poured it into containers. She buried her feet. Then she buried my feet. Each day the combination of the cool sand on my feet and the warm sun on my shoulders was the river my scorched reservoir needed.

 

Sensual pleasure is where I start with everyone whose reservoir is drained

I can tell how depleted a person is by how their body responds to small, sensual pleasures.

I’ve watched a woman tear up when I took her into the bathroom and got the warm water just the right temperature, then squirted lavender-scented soap into her hands. We stood in silence at that sink for six straight minutes, just letting the warm water run over her hands. Her reservoir was dry because she was grieving. Her sister had cancer and her son had died in a freak accident.

She was parched with pain. The scent of the soap was a gentle relief to her senses. The continuous stream of water helped her tears to flow, and both rivers filled her reservoir.

 

The more extreme your depletion the more you need those simple, sensual pleasures to refill you.

We will talk more about these simple, sensual pleasures in the weeks to come. For now, just ask yourself, “What would feel really, really good to my body?”

You don’t need catastrophe to strike for you to feel depleted, however.

Young mothers come into my practice who are depleted from the daily grind of keeping a baby fed, or helping a toddler to navigate the sea of emotion that results from not being capable of tying shoes, but desperately wanting their independence.

Parents who are in the pre-school years are facing the behemoth task of keeping young mouths filled, emotions regulated, and the ever chaotic and demanding needs a child has to balance energy release with rest and sleep. No wonder you’re depleted if you’re in this phase of life.

 

When you need more than sensual pleasure

Sometimes sensual pleasures help to fill this depleted reservoir, but other times a different river is needed to fill their reservoir: creativity or some other reminder that they are a human being in addition to being a parent. I’ve brought out my colored pencils, knitting needles, or a yoga mat.

As they begin to draw, or turn yarn into a scarf, or hang their head in downward dog, I watch the result of the hydrating river. They yawn. They sigh. Or they lose themselves in the glory of feeling their own body again. Getting in touch with their own creativity.

I needed lots of sensual pleasure to refill my reservoir after tending my stepfather and mother. I clearly remember crying through a massage I got at that time. But eventually, I transitioned to feeling human again and then I needed the river of creativity as well.

I felt human again because I got help.

 

Your river will replenish you

My stepfather made a complete recovery. Because he had needed that quadruple bypass for years, his quality of life improved exponentially. Later that year, he snapped into full gear and drove across town—my mother in the passenger seat—and he picked up my daughter until I finished at work.

I worked for The University of Colorado in the Speech, Language, Hearing Sciences building. My son was in a preschool in the same building as my research work. I was still a busy parent, but I was no longer parched with overwhelm.

That allowed me to move into the color-pencil stage of river hydration. Doodles that turned into words. I discovered it by accident one evening after putting the kids to bed.

 

Different stages of hydration

That afternoon I cut up a watermelon. Because I had other people to help with my children, I had more in my reservoir. Instead of mere survival mode: get food in those children, I plunked the juicy, red chunks into an antique green serving bowl and brought that to the table where my children were sitting.

Both children gasped at the beauty of The Green Glass Wonder and the beautiful red chunks. Their pincushion hands reached in over and over oohing and ahh-ing with each bite. I had served many salads in this fancy dish to multiple adults at parties, but never had I gotten the applause I got that day.

After I put the children to bed, I got out my journal and wrote the first piece of writing in what became a series of pieces I called Altared Spaces. a-l-t-A-red. The Green Glass Wonder was the first altar I identified in my parenting journey, but there were many more to come.

 

Bring more meaning to your reservoir

As I noticed those altars—the mundane moments I was tempted to overlook—a cascade of meaning filled my reservoir and became a hydrating river for all the moments of overwhelm that was parenting.

Every young parent is exhausted. I was no different, but I began to get up early, before anyone else awakened. I wrote for 30 minutes answering the writing prompt, “Today my Altared Space is…” That little daily prompt helped me discover why I’d rather use the good dishes and risk the broken goblet: because no one appreciated small beauties as much as little children.

I fell in love with the view from the upstairs window where my 2-year-old son stood jumping with excitement each time he saw a squirrel, or naming the variety of balls other children played with in the grassy field just below.

 

Nourish your soul

Even though I was tired, getting up to find that river of motherhood altars filled my reservoir so that each day the demanding work of parenting held more meaning for me. There was so much that was giving my life purpose, but that 30 minutes in the dark of the early morning was the brief time I was able to see it before I was swept into another round of to-do lists.

This is how your river will hydrate your soul during any season of too-much-tiredness. When life is too much, sometimes you need sunshine on your shoulders to replenish you. Other times, what you need is to get up early (or stay up late), even when you’re tired, so you can give yourself the gift of adult-occupation. Meaning-making. Your answer to the question, “WHY am I working so hard?”

 

What fills your tank?

Instead of digging deeper into the thing that exhausts you, it might be exercise that fills your tank. Or a night away with friends. Maybe even replacing the towels with something softer, so your skin feels hugged when you emerge from the shower.

When you’re suffering from too-much-tired, your sensual body needs tending. Or your brain needs the break of falling into the flow-zone, when you can lose track of time, instead of the constant managing of details.

 

What does your too-much-tired look like right now?

• Is it the weight of an unrelenting season of life when you’re a caretaker for a child or a parent
• Is it the daunting task of getting a business started and you’re constantly dwarfed by questions you have no answer for, but yet you’re the one responsible for answering?
• Or are you facing a crisis like an accident, illness, or job loss?

When you can understand the reason for your draining reservoir, it’s easier for you to find the river that will help to fill the depletion you feel.

 

What does your river look like?

• Begin with simple, sensual pleasure, like my sand and sunshine, or the lavender soap my client needed.
• Next graduate to choices that awaken your creativity. Art supplies, or a nature walk.
• Finally, ask yourself where you can carve out time to put yourself into the flow-zone like I was able to do with my daily question and my journal.

In the weeks to come we’ll talk about this more specifically.

Here are the questions:

1. There are many things making me tired. I just want to list them. Listing them will help me unload them. See them. Notice them. They feel so overwhelming inside of me, and I just need the chance to unpack them all in one place. The things making me tired are…
2. I want to tell you what it’s like to feel tired. I feel it in the morning when I … I feel it in the afternoon when I… I feel it in the evening when I …
3. The final discussion point I want to offer you as you talk to your partner or someone else is to say, Now I’d like to tell you how these flavors of tired are impacting our relationship. Again, I’m not interested in blaming you. It doesn’t have to be anyone’s fault for it to be true that my exhaustion is impacting our relationship. But I want to talk about it. Here is the impact I see…

How will your relationship with your partner change if you are able to identify and talk about the places in your life where you are too-much-tired?

Next week I’ll tell you a story about when I was too-little-tired. The distinction is big, so make sure you’ve hit that subscribe button and come back to understand the difference between too-much-tired and too-little-tired.

Want more?

• Next week, I’ll be back to talk about too-little-tired
• Until then, try listening to this episode about 3 types of rest to relaunch you