For the Days When You Don’t Feel Like Yourself

— A letter for the days that feel heavy

There are moments in life when even the simplest tasks feel overwhelming, when the world moves around you, but you remain still, unsure, exhausted. This piece by Kanak is for those moments. It’s not a motivational anthem demanding action. Instead, it’s a soft place to land. A reminder that it’s okay to not have all the answers. That healing doesn’t always look like hustle. And that feeling lost isn’t failure, it’s part of the becoming.

As you read these words, we hope you find solace in knowing you are not alone. Let this be your quiet permission to pause, to breathe, and to trust that even in the fog, you are still finding your way.

Editor, AboutHer

There are days when you wake up and barely recognise the person in the mirror.
You’re still showing up, at work, with friends, in conversations. But something inside feels foggy, distant, unanchored. It’s as if the version of you who once had clarity, ambition, and spark is quietly hiding somewhere behind you.

And now?

Even getting out of bed feels monumental.
You know there are deadlines, obligations, and people depending on you.
But your energy is scattered. Your heart feels worn. And your mind is a room too cluttered to enter.

This is what it means to feel lost.
It doesn’t always come with fanfare or fall-apart moments.
Often, it arrives in silence.
And stays like a quiet ache you can’t name.

The Weight of This Phase

No one quite prepares us for this chapter,
when life slows down but the noise inside amplifies.

You find yourself whispering questions into the void:
“Why can’t I focus anymore?”
“Why do the things that once thrilled me now feel like burdens?”
“What happened to my drive, my joy, my strength?”

You start comparing yourself to your past self, the one who could juggle everything effortlessly. And slowly, without noticing, you begin grieving that person.

But here’s what you don’t hear enough:
You haven’t failed.

You’re evolving.

And grief always walks hand-in-hand with growth.

“Feeling lost isn’t the end.
It’s the messy, sacred beginning of becoming someone new.”

Also Read: Drawn to Silence

The Inner Battle

This isn’t just about motivation.
It’s about identity.

You begin to question your worth.
Wonder if you’ve become too slow, too soft, too behind.
To others, you may still look the same, smiling, showing up, keeping pace.
But inside, you’re quietly drifting from the life you once felt connected to.

Even simple existence feels heavy.

There’s a tiredness that no amount of sleep touches.
Not born from laziness, but from overstretching yourself.
From always being the strong one. The dependable one. The one who never paused.

“Your soul isn’t broken, love.
It’s just tired of carrying so much without being held.”

The Quiet Realisation

Then one day, in the middle of the stillness,
A gentle voice whispers within:

“Maybe I just need to rest.”

Not the kind of rest that’s laced with guilt.
But a deep, intentional pause.
A full-body permission slip to breathe again.
To feel again.
To be, without performance.

This isn’t weakness.
This is wisdom.

The kind that comes from honouring your humanness more than your to-do list.

The Turning Point: From Lost to Aligned

So what happens next?
How do you find light in a room that feels dark?

First, honour the pause.

Don’t rush this.
When you feel lost, it’s because your old map no longer fits the terrain you’re meant to explore.
You’re not stranded.
You’re being redirected.
Quietly.
Intentionally.

“Even if you can’t see the path,
trust that it’s still unfolding beneath your feet.”

Second, choose trust.

Whether it’s in God, the universe, or a force you can’t name, believe that this chapter carries purpose.
You are not behind.
You are being protected.
You are being prepared.

Not all stillness is stagnation.
Not all detours are dead ends.

But trust isn’t the same as resignation.
Yes, rest.
But don’t confuse avoidance with destiny.
Even if you walk slowly, keep walking.
Even in small ways, stay present.

“You are allowed to rest.
You are not meant to quit on yourself.”

Third, extend grace.

To your mind. Your body. Your pace.
You are not failing.
You’re just feeling.
And sometimes, that’s the bravest thing you can do.

Also Read: A Friendship Beyond Names

A Soft Kind of Hope

If you’re reading this with a lump in your throat or tears in your eyes—please know:

This is not your ending.
This is the sacred, silent middle.

One day, maybe not today, but someday soon, you’ll look back at this time and whisper:

“That was the chapter where I didn’t give up on myself.
Even when I was lost, I trusted.
Even in the dark, I kept going.”

“Being lost isn’t the opposite of being found.
It’s the space in between where you become.”

So breathe.
Rest.
Rebuild.
Not with pressure.
But with love.

You are not lost.
You are quietly becoming yourself again.

And that, dear reader, is a beautiful place to be.