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⚠️ Please read with care: This blog shares personal, sometimes painful experiences. My intention is to support and speak honestly not to harm. I’m not a professional, just someone who understands how hard it can get. If you're struggling, you're not alone please reach out for professional help.
The Fatigue Olympics — A Users’ Guide to Collapsing with Style
You know that moment when your body files for bankruptcy mid-toast? Welcome to the Fatigue Olympics: events nobody asked for, medals nobody wants, commentary provided by a goblin with a migraine and a sense of humour darker than a southern sky in February.
Opening Ceremony (lights off, obviously)
No fireworks. Too bright. We light a tea candle, stare at it for four minutes, then cancel the parade because we’re exhausted from thinking about it.
Events
100m Dash to the Loo
You stand. The world tilts. Knees write a resignation letter. Heroic sit-down pee. Gold medal for not crying on the bath mat.
Toast Marathon
Aim: butter toast. Outcome: butter floor, butter dog, butter despair. The toaster dings like a smug little tyrant. DNF (Did Not Finish), again.
Sofa Free-Climb
Mid-sentence coma. You wake three hours later with a crumb fossilised to your cheek. Was it an important conversation? Probably. Did you survive? Also probably.
Shower Sprint
You manage one armpit and a stern glance at the shampoo. Podium finish if you got your hair wet on purpose.
Remote-Control Deadlift
Attempt to change channel. Drop remote on face. Pretend it was “mindfulness.” Bronze medal for not swearing at inanimate objects (you swore).
Stairs Biathlon
Climb and breathe. That’s it. That’s the sport. Personal best if you don’t consider simply living at the top step forever.
Grocery Gauntlet
Entering the shop was hubris. Leaving is a quest. Bread is heavy now. Who made bread heavy?
Scoring System
Finished without crying: +10
Finished while crying: +20 (tears count as electrolytes)
Didn’t finish but made a meme about it: automatic silver
Cancelled the day and survived: lifetime achievement award
Why this isn’t “just being tired”
Fatigue is a hostile takeover. It hijacks signal from brain to body and replaces it with static. You’re not lazy; your wiring is on fire. Some days clarity visits for a few hours; you shift your mindset, put on music, make art, write something grim and honest, and that tiny act becomes revolutionary. That’s the win: not pretending it’s fine—moving anyway, even if “moving” is tapping one sentence and then lying down like a Victorian ghost.
Closing Ceremony
We applaud in our heads to conserve energy. The anthem is played at half-speed. Everyone leaves early and naps like champions.
Post Footer: Practical Notes (because survival is punk)
Lower the bar until you can step over it. Then lower it again.
One task = a win. Two = a parade.
Music, art, writing: not hobbies—lifelines.
If anyone calls you “brave,” invoice them.
I write in ink and fury, in breath and broken bone.
Through storm and silence, I survive. That is the crime and the miracle. 𐑢𐑨𐑑𐑒𐑣𐑧𐑮 𐑨𐑥𐑴𐑙 𐑢𐑨𐑑𐑒𐑣𐑧𐑮𐑕
