Have you ever had the wind knocked out of you so thoroughly you think you might die before a puff of life-giving air makes it back into your lungs?
Not from a blow to the chest, but from a life that won’t let up.
When sickness knocks you to your knees…
When your body screams “enough” before you’ve dared whisper it yourself…
Mothers aren’t supposed to get sick. Neither are grandmothers. We’re the glue, the backup system, the planners, the comforters, the doers. We carry the weight of those we love on our backs, our minds, and our hearts. Even when we’re barely holding on, we keep showing up.
But sometimes… we fold.
For me, the breaking point came after my third 1,200-mile round trip in just a few weeks. I was pushing hard—too hard. I felt the warning signs: bone-deep fatigue, brain fog, aching joints, and emotional heaviness. But I kept going.
“I’ll sleep next week,” I said.
“I’ll rest after this next trip.”
But the rest never came.
I wasn’t eating well. I wasn’t hydrating. And I certainly wasn’t being honest with myself—or God—about how empty I was running.
The Hidden Cost of Carrying It All
Here’s the part many of us overlook:
Emotional labor drains our physical strength.
Caretaking. Planning. Holding others up. Even silent grief. It all costs us something.
I’ve learned our energy comes in layers:
- Daily Energy – What we’re designed to run on: sleep, food, water, and joy. Replenished daily through rest and care.
- Back-Up Reserve (Battery Mode) – Used in moderate stress or crisis. It can recover, but only through intentional restoration.
- Emergency Survival Reserve (Danger Zone) – This kicks in during long-term stress: trauma, sickness, chronic caregiving. If we live here too long, our whole system shuts down.
And that’s where I found myself:
Crashing. Crying. Barely functioning.
But here’s what made it even harder: I knew I couldn’t stay down for long.
There were more trips ahead. More decisions. More caretaking. More life.
When the Body Says No… and the World Keeps Spinning
I didn’t get a dramatic medical emergency. I got something quieter, but just as serious:
Total depletion.
My body forced me to stop.
I couldn’t open my eyes unless I had to.
I shook with chills.
I lost my sense of purpose—and even the will to try.
It felt like failure.
But it wasn’t.
It was a holy invitation to let God carry what I no longer could.
“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” — 2 Corinthians 12:9
So, What Do We Do When There’s Still So Much To Do?
If you’re like me, you may feel desperate to heal quickly—not just for yourself, but because people are still counting on you. But healing can’t be rushed. And strength, real strength, is not about bouncing back—it’s about rebuilding differently.
Here’s how we begin:
1. Reclaim the Basics Without Guilt
- Water. Food. Sleep. These are not luxuries; they are lifelines.
- Rest is not a waste of time. It’s God’s prescription for recovery.
“He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul.” — Psalm 23:2-3
2. Redefine Strength
You don’t have to come back as the version of yourself who carried everything.
Instead of asking, “How can I be strong again?” ask:
“How can I let God be strong for me?”
That’s what Jesus offered:
“Come to Me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” — Matthew 11:28
Let Him take the weight.
3. Let Others In
This is hard. But healing rarely happens in isolation.
Even Jesus accepted help carrying His cross.
So we can, too.
Ask someone to pick up the groceries.
Say no to that extra commitment.
Tell the truth when someone asks, “How are you doing?”
4. Adjust the Pace, Not the Purpose
The needs are still there. The children. The appointments. The tough decisions.
But this time, we don’t hustle through it. We walk with the Shepherd.
Step by step.
Breath by breath.
Resting between each.
Forgive Yourself for What You Can’t Do
This one’s vital:
Let go of guilt.
You are not weak. You are not failing. You are human. You are healing.
And in this very space of exhaustion, God still sees you, still loves you, still calls you His.
A Final Word
We weren’t made to carry it all. That expectation is not holy—it’s harmful.
We will be needed again.
We will face more responsibilities.
But we don’t have to show up as the burnt-out, bone-tired version of ourselves.
This time, we carry the load with God—not for everyone, and not alone.
So if you’re in a crash season, begin small.
One sip of water.
One slow prayer.
One whispered, “Help me, Lord.”
That’s where healing begins.
And as we rise, we’ll rise stronger—not because of our own might, but because of the God who sustains us.
“Those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength;
they shall mount up with wings like eagles,
they shall run and not be weary,
they shall walk and not faint.” — Isaiah 40:31