Let me answer this honestly, from my current situation and experience, I am tired. Not the “I stayed up scrolling” kind of tired. Not the “just one more episode” kind of tired. I mean the deep, layered, bone-soaked exhaustion that settles into your body and quietly unpacks its bags.
I’m fasting. Which means my body is already running on discipline, faith, and very strategic hydration. My energy has a schedule now. It rises gently after suhoor, dips mid-afternoon, and by evening I’m negotiating with myself like a hostage situation to Just make it to iftar.
At the same time, I’m raising two kids. Beautiful, energetic, loud, emotionally complex little humans who need snacks (that I can’t taste), homework help, mediation, hugs, supervision, and approximately 47 answers per hour. Parenting alone is a full-time marathon. Parenting while fasting feels like running that marathon in soft sand.
But wait, there’s more.
There’s my sister-in-law, who just became a new mum. If you’ve ever been around a newborn, you know that sleep becomes a myth. So I step in where I can, holding the baby, helping her rest, offering reassurance when everything feels overwhelming. Because I remember those early days. And because that’s what family does. Then again, my mother-in-law Is also around, who I need to make sure she’s comfortable, and making sure she never feels like a burden. Caregiving is love in action but it is also labor. Invisible labor. The kind that doesn’t clock out.
So if you asks me, “Are you tired or just professionally avoiding sleep?” believe me, I'm tired Trust me. If I were avoiding sleep, I would at least be enjoying myself.
This isn’t procrastination fatigue. It’s responsibility fatigue. It’s the exhaustion that comes from showing up for everyone sometimes before showing up for myself.
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