When did writing become so tiring?

My paradigm-shifting solution to support energy when life/writing/the world depletes us.

A phrase I would never put on my computer screen.

After a somewhat dormant fall and winter, my writing life has been buzzing quite a bit this spring. It’s a welcome change that I was ready for, but still requires an adjustment as my energy is rarely the same day-to-day.

In addition to creating more podcast episodes (it’s never too late to join the conversation), I’ve also finished some personal pieces. And not just that—I’ve sent them out into the world. Eep! I’ve spent a fair amount of time these past few weeks submitting one essay and a handful of poems to various journals. At first I felt the high of it. I’m doing it! My work is growing wings! Hope and possibility were abundant resources.

And then I was tired.

Vulnerability hangover was the phrase that first came to mind, but I don’t think that’s quite right. I don’t feel like I overshared, or like I don’t want anyone to read my work. It just took time and energy to research, organize, format, track, and submit everything.

What comes up must come down.

When I was in San Diego last month for the second time this year, I met with a friend for coffee (hi, Rebecca!). She attended a business mixer the night before and mentioned how tired she felt afterwards, and I shared how my own energy around socializing—or really anything that requires leaving the house for longer than thirty minutes—has taken a dip too, especially since 2020.

Last week I joined a writing workshop on Zoom that started at 8 p.m. EST, which is approximately one hour before I get into bed and start “reading” before light’s out. I really dislike evening computer things, and although I loved the session, I also noticed how depleted I felt afterwards despite not being a presenter. It was simply the end of the day, and I was asking my body to pay attention at a time when it’s usually powering down.

This isn’t only about being introverted, either. My friend and I both enjoy spending quality time with people that light us up, but we also need buffer days regardless if the activity was virtual or in-person.

While it’s worth remembering that writing is inherently draining to a certain degree because your body and brain are working simultaneously, I’m not sure this dip is the fault of writing, per se, but a byproduct of what surrounds it. It’s life happening.

Below, an incomplete list of reasons why I’m more tired these days:

• I’m not 25 anymore.

• I spend chunks of my day thinking about other people and their needs and/or organizing and planning things that are scheduled to happen in the future.

• I’m low-level hypervigilent about threats like gun violence every damn day I send my kid to school.

• I’m in perimenopause, and insomnia is a frustrating side effect of a body making profound shifts.

• It’s a presidential election year.

• It’s Tuesday. (Sometimes there’s no rhyme or reason to it.)

The remedy?

I rest first.

I don’t rest after I work, like I’ve earned it, but before, like I deserve it.

And you know what? My body usually rewards me by feeling more energized, my mind is sharper, and I still get (mostly) everything done.

But more importantly, tweaking the day’s order of events sends a very important message to my brain and body: You are worthy of rest, and when you get tired, I’ll tend to you.

I’ll give you an example. My kid was off to school. I’d gotten ready for the day (as in, I washed my face and put on a pair of matching sweats), and I was deciding whether I wanted to start a pilates routine or go for a walk. I also knew I wanted to send another submission out, and I had about an hour’s worth of freelance work to do.

There was plenty of time to do all this before heading to the school pick-up line, but I was also really tired. Pushing through it would only make me feel worse, so I got back in bed, pulled my weighted blanket up, and pressed play on a yoga nidra meditation. Thirty minutes later I felt like a new, well-rested person. And I did all the things I’d planned on with far more energy and enthusiasm.

I’m fully aware that I couldn’t actually have done this when I was twenty-five in the same way I do it now, because I was working full-time and didn’t have control over my schedule. But I’m willing to bet that if I believed I deserved to rest at that stage of my life, I would have found small ways to exercise this agency, like taking a walk at lunch or closing my eyes for three minutes in my car before walking through the door.

Resting first is countercultural.

Rest wasn’t modeled for most us, so designing sustainable practices in a system that thrives off of you believing that your worth is wrapped up in how much you do or produce for others isn’t easy to uncouple. It’s a process.

I can’t remember where I heard this most recently, but the idea of “more being, less doing” is such a good one. It’s the simplest advice, and easy to forget.

Whatever’s on your plate this week, I hope you can find a few minutes to take a few deep breaths and tend to your own needs. You deserve it.

Until next time,
Nicole

P.S. A new podcast episode drops next week, all about how to plan a DIY writing retreat! Be sure to subscribe on Apple Podcasts or Spotify to hear it first.