Have you ever been so tired that you didn’t know how to keep going? Physically, mentally, emotionally, relationally, or socially, being tired is exhausting. And yet, you find yourself putting one foot in front of the other. No matter what kind of tired you’re carrying, see if any of these statements resonate:
Relationally, maybe life hasn’t gone the way you planned. You thought you’d be married, have two kids, or surely be free from anxiety by now. Mentally, for some of you, depression is a weight that never leaves; its presence is a dark rain cloud that follows you wherever you go. Or, maybe you face addiction, an eating disorder, or harming yourself because it’s the only thing that lets the pain out.
Environmentally, some of you have come from traumatic homes, while others have known what it was like to face addiction, poverty, and pain. Some of you grew up in a wonderful haven, but now grapple with a world full of questions. No matter where you came from or what tired burdens you presently carry, we all have one thing in common: We’re humans who struggle with being tired on the inside.
Being tired on the inside is a kind of tired that sleep can’t fix.
· It’s a tired that comes from living in a broken world.
· Being told, “Pray more, and worry less.” “Just give your worries to God.” “Have more faith.”
· It’s believing you deserve the bad that happens to you because that’s the path you’ve chosen.
· It’s feeling like everything is your fault and that life will always be this way because it’s never been any different.
· It’s working yourself to death when you know you need to rest.
· It’s tying your worth to what you do, thinking your accolades can finally make you “good enough.”
But I don’t think I have to convince you that you’re tired. I need to convince you that life won’t always be this way.
While I wish I could tell you I have all the answers, I don’t. I still struggle with anxiety, depression, trauma, chronic illness, and living in a body addicted to work. I have days where I cry nonstop and others where pain keeps me trapped. But over the last 2 decades, I’ve learned 3 simple things. They won’t fix all your problems, but it’s my prayer that they will give you hope for your hard days. Just enough to hold even when it’s hard. Knowing that if it’s not good, He’s not done. The light is still to come.
1. Your struggles are real, But They Don’t Define You
When I graduated from college and started struggling with my physical and mental health, a spiritual mentor told me it was “all in my head.” I was dumbfounded. How could they think that? Some people may overspiritualize or underspiritualize pain, but we have to keep on being our own biggest advocate. That can be exhausting, but your struggles are real regardless of whether and when someone else validates them.
Many of us feel anxious, depressed, broken, too much, and not enough. We want to know how to find practical biblical help without being told unhelpful clichés. And it’s okay to seek professional help, counseling, medication, therapy, and holistic healing for your mental health as a Christian. But before you do, I want you to know and acknowledge that your pain (physical, mental, emotional, relational, you name it) is real, yet it isn’t your identity. You’re not your diagnosis.
In 2024, I had my second surgery for stage 2 Endometriosis. Even after the doctor confirmed it, I asked my husband Ben fifteen times, “So, it’s not just in my head?” Though I laugh now, I didn’t need that validation. Yes, I wanted it, and it was a helpful diagnosis for my treatment. It felt so good to have someone see my pain with their physical eyes. But I knew deep down my pain was real. I felt it. It was valid, whether I received that diagnosis code or not.
Today, I want you to know that you can acknowledge your pain without it becoming your name. Because what you struggle with is not who you are. It may threaten to consume your identity. Pain naturally does. But though suffering is part of your story, it’s not the whole. You’re more than your struggles now and forevermore. Diagnosed or not. Healed or not. And that leads me to the second thing I’ve learned:
2. Healing Is a Process
When I first started counseling, it was like someone turned on the light in my mind. I was heard, validated, and seen. I learned how to identify false things I believed about myself and unpack trauma I’d been hauling around for years. And yet, on the first session, I asked my therapist, “How long is this going to take?” I didn’t love his answer: “As long as it takes.”
Deep down, many of us attend wellness retreats, read articles, or see medication and therapy as something that will provide a dramatic and immediate breakthrough. It’s like all those people attending church camp saying they’re on fire for God on Monday, but coming home the same Friday. Because though lasting change sometimes happens that fast, more often growth looks like a process.
It’s going to counseling over and over again (I’ve been in it for 7 years). It’s trying a new type of therapy when one doesn’t work (like EMDR or Talk Therapy). It’s taking medication as prescribed. Telling a trusted friend what’s really in your head. Getting out of bed when it would be easier to stay in bed. Taking a walk even though you don’t want to. Opening your Bible when all you can think is: “God help.”
While I know that’s not the answer we want to hear, it’s the truthful one. God often works through ordinary faithfulness rather than instant transformation. He’s not always a microwave, but more often a slow cooker. So don’t underestimate what He can do through small steps taken over time. Open your heart and mind to receive from Him. This week and beyond. But realign your expectations. I’m not looking for miraculous healing 24/7, though we know that does happen; I’m looking for how we can manage these things better over time. Because realistic hope isn’t always the absence of pain, but it’s always the presence of God in it.
3. Hope Isn’t the Absence of Pain; It’s Choosing to Believe God Is Present in It
For years, I believed that therapy, medication, and coping skills would eventually take my anxiety away. I’ve since learned that while healing can look like: everything works out, the anxiety disappears, the depression lifts, and the prayer gets answered exactly how we want, Biblical hope is hope that trusts, believes, and clings to the hem of His garment even when we’re still struggling. It’s knowing, “Even here, God hasn’t abandoned me.”
At the beginning of last year, my anxiety and depression reached a breaking point. I was so on edge I could barely function. I’d been prescribed medication and wept. Why? Because I realized I couldn’t fix myself. And that was just as difficult a pill to swallow as the physical pill itself.
Nearly a year later, my anxiety isn’t gone. I’m now pivoting and trying yet another type of therapy. While most of my symptoms have improved, my addiction to work is out of control. And I think that illustrates this point well. Because I’m not looking for all my anxiety to disappear, I’m looking for it to be more manageable. And I’m choosing to believe God is still here, present in it, even when the anxiety seems to take over.
In the film Inside Out 2, there’s a scene where anxiety takes over Riley’s nervous system. She’s playing a sport, but is out of control. The other emotions try to help, but Anxiety is too strong. Her hand is white-knuckled around the control panel. I think many of us know what that feels like. Anxiety grabs the controls and convinces us that if we worry, plan, work, or prepare enough, we can protect ourselves from pain. But anxiety was never meant to be our savior; it was never meant to sit in the driver's seat. And neither were we.
Hope begins when we loosen our grip and remember God is still God, even when our emotions are loud, even when we don't know what tomorrow holds. Even when healing takes longer than we expected. Hope says, "I don't have all the answers, but I know the One who walks with me." "This hurts, but God hasn’t left." "My circumstances may not change today, but God's presence has not changed."
You are loved.
You are seen.
You are heard.
And even if you've never experienced that before, your struggles are real. But they’re not the whole story of who you are. You’re more than your diagnosis, pain, mistakes, fears, or circumstances.
Healing may not always look the way we want, but it can happen one small, faithful step at a time. And hope, lasting, biblical hope, isn't found in perfect circumstances, but in the presence of a God who remains faithful even when life is hard.
If you're tired on the inside, you're not alone. And maybe being tired isn't just a reminder of what you've lost. It could also be an invitation to stop carrying everything on your own—an invitation to rest. To let God meet you in the places you've been trying so hard to hold together. Sometimes, the people who are the most tired are in the perfect position to be filled.
Wherever you find yourself today, I hope you'll come to God with open hands and an open heart, trusting that He still has something for you here.
Photo credit: Vladimir-Vladimirov
