i'm exhausted

on burnout, guilt, and feeling as if something is wrong.

i'm exhausted. for the last few weeks, every task, no matter how big or small, has posed as a mountain to overcome. i've had no motivation for anything, no drive or inspiration. i am just entirely burnt out. it'll be a miracle if this essay ends up on my substack, seeing as i have seemingly also lost my ability to string sentences together.

---

today has been no different from the last few weeks—exhaustion coupled with the plague of constantly feeling overstimulated. the wondrous feeling of anxiety coursing through my veins and forcing all the air out of my lungs. i tried—keyword here is tried—to study earlier this morning, i ended up watching ‘sonic boom’ instead. i just physically couldn't get myself to read the words, to remember any of it, i couldn't will myself to pay attention. the terms just seemed too foreign to me. the sheer idea of all the work i have to cover before next thursday just completely paralysed me—which is simply making matters worse.

i'm not so much of a poet today as i am just a girl trying to will herself to do ANYTHING other than doomscroll. taking into account how neglected my publication has been, i thought i'd at least attempt to write something.

---

i'm used to finding things hard to begin, getting up in the morning, falling asleep at night, getting my homework done. it even spans out into the things i genuinely want to do, like watching my favourite shows, or writing, or reading. starting stuff kinda sucks for me, but i do it regardless. my mom always says i'm incredibly self motivated, the easy child. i don't blame her for her use of that title, because i am. the thing is, there's a large amount of inner monologue—sometimes derogatory and somewhat abusive monologue—going on before i even lift a finger.

i miss when i'd tear through a book in two days, when i'd write like i was running out of time, when i would sit down and make bracelets while watching all my favourite shows—‘but what's stopping you from doing that, tiwa?’ wonderful question, it starts with ‘t’ and ends in ‘iwa’—it's times like this i think about that stupid tweet, the one that says ‘omg you people can't do anything.’ because genuinely can i? like why are basic things so difficult? why can't i process things normally, socialise normally? why is going to the grocery store so damn difficult for me? can i do anything?

---

this all just bubbles down to wanting desperately to be diagnosed, but also wanting to not obsess over it, and simultaneously hoping i won't lose myself to a diagnosis. i don't want to see myself differently, or make it my whole personality, i just want help. ‘but, tiwa, what if you get tested and they confirm you're fine?’ i keep thinking about that, and i remember something i was thinking sometime around when i was thirteen or fourteen. if there's nothing wrong with me, there's something wrong with me. if there's something wrong with me, it's not me, and i won't despise myself for something that's not my fault.

i remember my old diary entries where i'd call myself lazy, useless, and other horrible things because i couldn't get myself to do anything somewhat responsible. it's such an uncomfortable feeling believing there is something fundamentally wrong with you and not understanding what exactly that thing is. i always found my way around it because i'm excellent at putting up a front. i've only ever had a teacher ask me to repeat what they just said back to them once—now i know how to seem entirely engrossed in a lesson when my mind is anywhere but. i know how to look like i’m listening, i know how to make it look like everything is fine. but sometimes it’s not. (HOLY CORNBALL).

---

well, readers, i think i'm going to wrap it up here. this essay feels entirely corny, like i've just treated my publication as a personal journal (which it technically is). i do hope someone feels seen reading these ramblings.

i love you all, see you in seven months (just kidding, i hope).

(that was also corny, sorry guys, i’m very self conscious about my writing tonight.)

bye lovelies.