Some days, waking up feeling numb, lethargic and hopeless are a reality which no-one talks about, we say we are "ok", when we are anything but... We fake it, sometimes to make other's feel better because they don't understand, sometimes because it's the easy option, so that they don't probe deeper...

That knot in your stomach isn’t because you’re “behind.” It’s because you’ve been carrying too much for too long while keeping the bar impossibly high. You’re the one who shows up prepared, who double-checks the thing no one else noticed, who keeps the wheels turning when plans wobble. And somehow, that becomes the reason you get handed just one more responsibility… again. So you stay late, rewrite it, fix it, smile. Then wonder why it still feels like you’re not doing enough. Quiet truth: you’re not unmotivated — you’re exhausted from being the safety net and the engine at the same time. You don’t need another pep talk or a five-step plan. You need one square inch of permission to be human without the whole thing falling apart. If this is you today, you’re not broken. You’re a competent person in an unsustainable loop. Take a breath. Put one tiny boundary on the table. Your worth isn’t measured by how well you absorb everyone else’s chaos.

Some days, grief does not look like tears. It looks like getting up, going to work, answering people, making dinner, checking on everyone else and quietly wondering how you are still standing. From the outside, you look like you are coping. But inside, you feel emotionally empty, exhausted and alone. You carry the loss everywhere. You try to be strong. You tell yourself to keep going. And yet there is a part of you that feels trapped in the darkness, carrying guilt, carrying pain, carrying the weight of a life that changed forever. What makes it even harder is that so few people really understand this kind of grief. The world seems to move on, while you are still climbing the emotional mountain one breath, one moment, one step at a time. If this is where you are right now, you are not weak. You are not failing. You are carrying something incredibly heavy. Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is simply get through this moment, then the next, and then the next again. Remember - "Broken crayons still colour." And even here, in the middle of the pain, that still matters.