staceybooks

There are just some days I don’t want to.

I don’t want to shower.

I don’t want to eat.

I don’t want to cook.

I don’t want to get dressed.

I don’t want to get out of bed.

I don’t want to work.

I don’t want to talk to anyone.

I don’t want to answer a text or return a phone call.

I don’t want to show up to another meeting.

I don’t want to think.

I just don’t want to.

And yet I do.

Because life doesn’t care that I don’t want to. The bills don’t pause. The deadlines don’t reschedule. The emails don’t magically disappear, and the world sure doesn’t stop spinning just because my motivation fell off the planet.

There’s something exhausting about the constant demand to show up when every part of you is screaming for a timeout. When you’ve been pouring out of an empty cup for so long you’ve forgotten what full even feels like. It’s not depression exactly. It’s not laziness either. It’s just depletion. Burnout. Silence that echoes too loud. A fog you can’t name.

Some people would say, “Take a self-care day!” And that’s cute, truly. But self-care sometimes looks like pushing through the thing you don’t want to do just enough so the world doesn’t collapse around you. It’s brushing your teeth even though you didn’t make it to the shower. It’s showing up to the meeting with your camera off and your mic muted. It’s replying with a one-word text just to let someone know you’re alive.

It’s knowing that even though your want to is gone, your have to is still standing. And sometimes that’s all you’ve got.

So today, if you’re in that space where everything feels heavy and your only goal is to make it to tomorrow, just know you’re not alone. Some days the victory is in the showing up. Even if it’s messy. Even if it’s silent. Even if it’s half-hearted.

Even if you don’t want to.

You did.

And that counts for something.

Actually it counts for a lot.