Lately, there is one question I haven’t been able to find an answer to: What am I feeling right now?
On the surface, everything seems to be fine. Life goes on. I get things done, and my daily responsibilities are still there. But behind all of this, there is a heaviness that is difficult to explain.
I’m tired, but sleep doesn’t make it go away. Some days, even doing nothing doesn’t help. It isn’t physical exhaustion. Sometimes, we simply get tired of thinking for too long, making decisions, waiting, and trying to keep everything under control.
I think that is what I’m going through right now.
It feels as though one chapter of my life is coming to an end, but the next one hasn’t begun yet.
That is why I feel a little strange. I have accepted that I have moved on from the past, but the future is still uncertain. I’m somewhere in between the two.
And this in-between stage is more exhausting than I expected.
Because there are no clear answers here.
I know what I want to change, but I don’t know when or how those changes will happen. I know that I no longer want certain things, but I still don’t know what I want to put in their place.
I wonder if the people around me can tell that I’m going through this stage.
How much of it can they see from the outside? The questions I’m struggling with, the way I keep questioning my values, my dreams, and my relationships over and over again?
One of the things I have come to understand through all this questioning is that it isn’t always major problems that exhaust us.
Sometimes, it is being strong for too long.
Trying to put everything in order.
Trying to make the right decision in every situation.
Constantly expecting more from yourself.
Making a new plan whenever your plans fall apart.
Trying to keep going without letting anyone see how difficult it actually is.
And most importantly, not finding the time to ask yourself, “How am I actually feeling?”
Unfortunately, we often realise that we are tired too late because we think we are strong enough to keep going.
Because we can keep going.
But being able to keep going does not mean that we are not tired.
At the same time, there is something else behind this emotional exhaustion: the weight of changing and growing.
Changing is not only about gaining something new. Sometimes, it means saying goodbye to an earlier version of yourself.
It means accepting that some things that once made you happy no longer make you feel the same way. It means realising that you no longer see certain people, relationships, or dreams in the same way. Sometimes, it even means questioning things you have believed about yourself for years.
And all of this happens quietly.
From the outside, your life may look exactly the same. But inside, so much is changing.
Perhaps this is one of the hardest parts of growing up: you are the first person to notice that you are changing, but it is not always possible to explain that change to others.
Sometimes, you don’t even fully understand what you are going through yourself. So how can you explain it to someone else?
Maybe, then, what I need right now is not to find answers to all my questions.
Maybe I need to learn how to live with some of them for a while.
Without trying to keep everything under control.
Without needing to be certain that every decision I make is the right one.
Without knowing when everything will change.
Maybe I simply need to accept that this in-between stage is also a part of life.
And perhaps this strange, heavy, slightly uncertain feeling is actually what change feels like.
What you've written already answers the question you started with—you know exactly what you're feeling. You just don't have a tidy name for it yet, and that's fair, because it doesn't fit in one word.
ReplyDeleteYou're not lost. You're between two versions of your life, and you can see both of them clearly enough to know neither one is really "now" anymore. That in-between place doesn't get talked about much, because it doesn't look like anything is happening. But something is happening. You're doing the quiet work of letting go of who you were, before you've been handed who you're becoming. That takes more energy than people realize, because there's no finish line to walk toward, no one applauding, and often no one else who even notices.
The tiredness you're describing makes complete sense. Holding yourself together, making good decisions, staying strong for other people, replanning every time something falls apart — that's real weight, even when it's invisible. Being able to keep functioning was never proof that you weren't tired. It just meant you were carrying it well.
And I think you already know the way through this, because you wrote it yourself: you don't need every answer right now. You're allowed to not know yet. You're allowed to sit in the uncertainty without rushing to fix it, without needing to prove anything to yourself or anyone else in the meantime.
This heaviness isn't a sign that something is wrong with you. It's what it feels like to grow into something you can't fully see yet. Give yourself permission to be in this stage for as long as it takes, instead of treating it like a problem you failed to solve. You're allowed to just be tired, and still be okay.