A Christmas Wolf in Sheep's clothing - Exhaustion as loneliness.

I have always thought of exhaustion as a physical thing. The outer limit of fatigue. An elevated, adult sense of tiredness that comes from our own sense of just doing too much. It's personal, of course, because we each have our own sliding scale of feeling "sapped", which varies with age, fitness and foibles.

But let's take a minute to look at exhaustion through a different lens. As a cause rather than an effect - the result of something much deeper than that old chestnut of "so much to do, so little time"... Here, is where it starts to get interesting - is exhaustion the simple result of overdoing it, or does something else bubble beneath the surface?

There is a bit of a sinister common denominator that often accompanies the feeling of true exhaustion. It often manifests when we complete tasks alone - not as part of the family household, not in a team at the office, or part of a community collective. I can even hear myself in these mumbly utterances..."Excuse me for lying down...I did the all the food shopping on my own, cooked the dinner on my own and washed the dishes on my own...I'm exhausted". I think this kind of monologue - and I am persuaded we have all spoken it on more than one occasion - might suggest that exhaustion is the result of loneliness, not workload. In other words..We often become exhausted not because we’re doing too much, but because we’re doing it on our own.

Probably a good opportunity to ensure we are all clear on the vast space between "being alone" and "being lonely". Being alone is a purely physical state - nothing more than the absence of other people. Loneliness, on the other hand is an emotional state. A feeling of being unseen and unsupported. It's not about proximity, it's about connection. Alone = quiet, Lonely = hollow. Ergo - loneliness is exhausting and exhaustion is lonely. Q.E.D.? Almost...

So we can be surrounded by family and friends, as we are bound to be over this holiday season, and yet still feel profoundly alone, and it is that loneliness that increases the emotional load of everything we do. Decisions feel heavier, conflict feels sharper, days feel longer. At the same time, exhaustion makes us withdraw. We text back less, we close down more. We islolate. Oh.. and "I'm fine" takes her place at the dinner table.

When we feel isolated, disconnected, and lonely, we try to protect ourselves… That means less empathy, more defensiveness, more numbing (the wine is in the fridge) and less sleeping. This is the energy-drainer and that is where exhaustion begins, and now we have really reframed exhaustion not as personal, but as relational - absolute fatigue - not because there’s too much to do, but because there’s too little connection supporting us while we do it.

So what's the solution? Where can we get some relief here? Rest is going to help, of course, but true restoration begins with becoming at least somewhat emotionally partnered. And what might that look like? The questions we want to hear are all around "Can I help with that?" and "Tell me how your day was?" the promotion of how to help someone be less alone inside the doing.

When we feel alone, disconnected and unseen, our first instinct is to put on our armour. It's a coping strategy that allows us to avoid vulnerability discomfort and emotional exposure. Like the work of the ego, 'armouring up' keeps us safe, but it also keeps un damagingly seperate. And armour, whether it be literal or figurative, is bloody heavy. It weighs us down, emotionally, physically and psychologically. It means that connection becomes harder, burnout increases, loneliness deepens and exhaustion skyrockets. It's a massive, almost visible loop. The armour we put on because we are not being seen, is precisely what keeps us from being seen.

Perhaps the real magic lies not in doing less, nor heroically doing more, but in the simplicity of having someone stand close enough to us that the armour becomes unnecessary. A kind word, a shared load of laundry, some genuine presence. Small things that have a way of sticthing us back together and soothing that quiet ache that is lonliness wearing a hat that belongs to exhaustion. And once that happens, fatigue will loosen its grip, loneliness retreats, and everything feels just a tad lighter. Which, frankly, is all most of us are longing for anyway.

This year, wrap yourself in the paper and ribbons of kindness and compassion, and give that gift of not being so hard on yourself.