There were days I couldn’t get out of bed.
Not because I was lazy.
Not because I didn’t have things to do.
But because my body—my entire body—had finally tapped out.
I remember staring at the ceiling, thinking, Why am I so tired all the time? I’d slept for hours but still felt like I hadn’t slept in years. Every little thing became overwhelming—texts, calls, decisions, even getting dressed. And for the longest time, I thought something was wrong with me.
But the truth is, I was exhausted from surviving someone else’s chaos.
This wasn’t just burnout.
This was trauma-induced fatigue.
According to trauma-informed neuroscience (yes, there’s real science behind this), survivors of narcissistic abuse don’t just feel “tired”—they experience deep, cellular exhaustion. Why? Because when you’re constantly walking on eggshells, defending yourself, questioning your reality, and tiptoeing around someone else’s emotional landmines, your nervous system never gets a break.
Your body doesn’t know the difference between emotional war and physical war.
It stays in fight-or-flight mode—constantly.
And eventually, it crashes.
I spent so long in survival mode that “rest” felt suspicious. I didn’t know how to relax without guilt creeping in. I didn’t trust silence because I’d been trained to expect chaos. And even when the narcissist was no longer in my life, my nervous system was still running from a fire that had already been put out.
It felt like I was always bracing for impact.
Like my body was waiting for the next emotional hit.
Even in safe spaces, I didn’t feel safe.
This is the part people don’t see.
They see the distance. The lack of energy. The flakiness.
They don’t see the internal war you’re fighting just to function.
And here’s what I need you to know if you’re reading this and nodding your head:
You are not broken.
You are not lazy.
You are not “too sensitive” or “too emotional.”
You are recovering from abuse that told your body it was never safe to rest.
Give yourself permission to slow down.
Not because the world says “self-care” is trendy, but because your nervous system is begging you to.
Drink water. Take naps. Say no. Go no contact if you need to. Don’t explain yourself to people who never had to survive what you did. Your healing won’t look like anyone else’s. That’s okay.
Some days, your only accomplishment will be choosing peace over panic. And that’s more than enough.
To the version of me who thought she had to “push through it”—I’m sorry.
To the version of me now, who finally understands what her body was screaming—I’m proud of you.
Because rest is not weakness.
It’s recovery.
