Hey Lord, I’m Tired

The irony is almost impossible to ignore.

Right after spending time studying the difference between humanity and the flesh, right after writing about God making us new instead of merely different, right after sitting with Scriptures about transformation and freedom, I felt like the enemy came for every vulnerable part of me all at once.

Almost immediately, the thoughts started getting louder.

Not enough as a wife.

Not quick enough as an employee.

Not educated enough for certain conversations.

Not confident enough.

Not black enough for some spaces.

Too much for others.

Just this overwhelming feeling of somehow falling short everywhere at the same time.

And if I am being very honest, it hit me harder than I want to admit.

Because there is a specific kind of exhaustion that sleep does not fix.

I do not mean being physically tired.

I mean soul tired.

The kind where your mind keeps moving but your spirit feels worn thin.

The kind where even simple things feel heavier than they should.

The kind where insecurity suddenly gets loud again even after you thought you had healed from certain things.

And maybe the hardest part is how quickly shame tries to attach itself to all of it.

Because once you become aware of spiritual warfare, you almost feel guilty admitting when it affects you.

Like if I were more mature, it would not bother me.

Like if my faith were stronger, I would not feel this overwhelmed.

Like if I were really transformed, I would stop struggling altogether.

But Scripture never actually paints people that way.

Elijah called down fire from heaven in 1 Kings 18 and then immediately afterward sat under a tree emotionally exhausted and asking God if he could die.

David wrote psalms full of grief, fear, confusion, and despair.

Paul openly admitted being burdened beyond strength.

Even Jesus in Gethsemane said:

“My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death.” Matthew 26:38

That verse has been sitting heavily on me lately because I think many of us know how to keep functioning while quietly unraveling internally.

And honestly, I think that is where I have been.

Not hopeless.

Not abandoning my faith.

Not giving up.

Just tired.

Tired of feeling like I have to prove myself in every room.

Tired of measuring myself against impossible standards.

Tired of carrying the pressure of needing to be enough for everyone all the time.

And maybe what makes this harder is that some of these insecurities are old.

Some rooted in childhood.

Some rooted in performance.

Some rooted in constantly adapting to survive different environments and expectations.

I learned early how to become what people needed me to be.

Professional enough here.

Strong enough there.

Soft enough in one room.

Confident enough in another.

And sometimes I wonder if survival mode teaches you how to shapeshift so well that eventually you forget who you are underneath all of it.

That is why this season feels so exposing.

Because God is healing things I learned to manage instead of confront.

And healing is beautiful, but it is also exhausting sometimes.

I think Christians often rush to the victorious ending too quickly.

We want the breakthrough testimony without acknowledging the middle.

But the middle matters too.

The middle where you know truth intellectually but still feel emotionally overwhelmed.

The middle where you know God is with you and still feel weary.

The middle where transformation is happening and insecurity still tries to speak.

Both can exist at the same time.

Lately, I keep thinking about how the enemy rarely attacks areas that are not growing.

And while I do not glorify spiritual warfare, I would be lying if I said this heaviness did not reveal something important to me.

Maybe the pressure is not proof I am failing.

Maybe it is proof something in me is changing.

Maybe insecurity feels louder because I am finally confronting it instead of partnering with it.

Still, I want to be careful not to sound overly polished about any of this.

Because right now, this is very real to me.

I know God is transforming me.

But I am also human.

And right now, I am tired in ways rest cannot completely fix.

Not because God has left me.

Not because I have lost faith.

Not because I am weak.

But because becoming new sometimes feels like grieving old survival patterns while learning how to live differently.

And maybe faith in seasons like this does not always look triumphant.

Maybe sometimes faith simply looks like continuing to talk to God while exhausted.

Continuing to show up.

Continuing to believe truth over feelings.

Continuing to refuse agreement with the lies even when they arrive loudly.

So tonight, I do not really have a polished ending.

Just honesty.

I love God.

I know He is with me.

I know He is changing me.

And still, sometimes, I feel tired in ways words barely know how to explain.