“I’m Fine, I’m Just Tired”: What Your Body Might Be Holding Before Christmas

She sat across from me with her hands wrapped around a mug she never drank from. The first thing she said was, “I’m fine. I’m just tired.”

She’s a composite of many women I’ve sat with, and maybe she’s you too. Two teenagers, a job she’s good at, and a mother who calls every evening at six. She’d been waking at 3 a.m. for months. Not every night, but enough of them.

*“I go to bed exhausted,” *she said. “Then I wake up and my brain is already making the list.”

I asked what was on it. The usual: groceries, a permission form, the text her son hadn’t answered. Then, more quietly: “And Christmas. I don’t know if I can do Christmas at my mom’s this year without my dad there.”

That last line was what her body had been holding all along.

Tired is a real answer, and it’s rarely the whole one

When a woman tells me she’s tired, I believe her. She’s been carrying the household, the calendar and the emotional weather of everyone she loves. That’s a lot of weight for one nervous system.

But tiredness that sleep doesn’t fix usually has something underneath it. In my somatic work, we treat the body as a messenger. The 3 a.m. wake-up, the tight jaw, the shoulders that live up by your ears, the short fuse at 5:30 when everyone wants dinner: these are signals. Behaviours are symptoms, and that includes your own.

Why your body keeps watch

Somewhere along the way, a part of you learned that if you stopped tracking everything, something would fall through. Maybe you grew up in a house where things did fall through. Maybe you were the one who noticed when Mom was upset, or who made sure the little ones got fed. That part of you got very good at keeping watch.

It still is. It just hasn’t noticed that you’re a grown woman, the house is safe and the dentist can wait until morning.

In parts work, we’d call this part a protector. It has been working overtime for years, and it’s exhausted too. Scolding it (“Why can’t I just relax?”) only makes it grip harder. Getting curious about it is what helps it soften.

When the tiredness is grief arriving early

Here’s the piece most of us miss. This time of year, a lot of the heaviness in the body is grief that hasn’t found its words yet.

The first Christmas without a parent. A child who’s moved out, or who’ll spend the holiday with their partner’s family. A marriage that has changed shape. The woman you used to be, before everyone needed you so much. We grieve all of it, and our bodies feel the season coming before we’ve named what we’re missing.

You don’t have to fix that. You might only need to notice it. “Oh. Some of this tiredness is sadness.” Noticing alone can let your body take a slightly deeper breath.

What you can try tonight

Before you reach for your phone or the list, put one hand on your chest. Breathe out a little longer than you breathe in, three or four times. Then ask, silently and kindly, “What are you holding for me?”

Then wait. You don’t need a big answer. Sometimes it’s a name, or a picture of a kitchen table. Sometimes it’s simply “everything.” Thank it anyway.

When rest is enough, and when to look deeper

Rest is probably enough when a few good nights help, when you can still laugh, and when your body softens on a slow weekend.

It’s worth looking deeper when it has lasted weeks, when sleep doesn’t touch it, when you feel far from the people you love most, or when the holidays feel like something to survive instead of share.

If the tiredness has turned into hopelessness, or you’ve had thoughts of not wanting to be here, please reach out now. In Canada, call or text 9-8-8, any time, day or night.

You don’t have to carry it alone

The woman in my office didn’t need a better planner. She needed somewhere to set the load down long enough to feel what was in it. Her body had been grieving her father in the only language it had.

If this sounds like you, my complimentary 30-minute consultation is a gentle place to start. There’s no pressure and nothing to prepare. You’ll find the booking link on my website.

You’re worth it. The people you love are worth it.