This meditation is called Relationship Fatigue is Real.
It was written during a time when I felt deeply depleted,
Tired in a way I couldn't quite explain.
At the time,
I was showing up in a relationship that looked fine on the outside,
But inside I felt unseen,
Unfulfilled and slowly disappearing.
I know what it's like to carry too much for too long.
To keep giving,
Even when your own cup is empty.
To feel like asking for help might be too much and yet feel resentful when no one offers.
This isn't a meditation to fix anything.
It's a space to be honest,
To exhale,
To let the truth rise without judgement.
So,
Whether you're in a partnership,
Raising a family,
Supporting others,
Quietly overfunctioning,
This is a space for you.
To feel what's real,
To put something down,
To be met,
Not managed.
There's nothing you need to do here.
Just bring your breath,
Your body and your honesty.
You're not alone anymore.
Let's begin.
Let yourself settle into a posture that feels right for your body.
You don't need to sit a certain way.
You don't need to breathe a certain way.
There is nowhere you need to be.
There is nothing you need to do.
Just be here.
With yourself.
With your breath.
If your mind is still busy or your body feels far away,
That's okay.
Let this moment be an invitation,
Not an instruction.
If it helps,
Gently bring your awareness to your shoulders.
Notice how high they sit.
Notice how long they've been holding everything up.
You can let them drop.
Just a little.
Just enough.
There's no pressure here to feel peaceful.
No requirement to be calm.
You've done enough pretending.
You don't have to earn this pause.
It's yours already.
You made it here.
That's more than enough.
Let's go in together.
I know what it feels like to do everything on your own.
To be the strong one.
The capable one.
The one who just gets on with it.
You never ask for help.
Not because you don't need it.
But because asking feels riskier than doing it all yourself.
Because deep down,
You're not sure it's safe to need anyone.
You've been let down before.
You've been disappointed.
You've been made to feel like your needs are too much.
So now,
You do it all.
You take care of the kids.
You take care of your partner.
You hold the calendar,
The emotions,
The house,
The everything.
You say yes when you want to say no.
You take on more than you can carry.
You work late.
Clean up.
Stay up.
Show up.
Even when you're running on fumes.
You over-function so no one sees you falling apart.
And maybe,
Just maybe,
You secretly hope someone will notice.
That someone will say,
You don't have to do it all.
You've done enough.
Let me take something off your plate.
But no one does.
Because you've gotten so good at being strong.
They think you're fine.
You tell them you're fine.
No,
It's okay,
I can do this.
But you're not fine.
You're exhausted.
You're stretched.
You're swallowing the quiet ache of resentment.
Because you love them.
But you feel invisible.
And then comes the guilt.
The voice that says,
They can't read your mind.
You didn't ask for help.
But why should you always have to ask?
Why should the burden of your own burnout fall on your shoulders to explain?
You are not too much.
Your needs are not a burden.
You shouldn't have to collapse to be noticed.
What if you were never meant to hold it all?
What if the belief that it's just easier to do it myself was never actually ease?
But exhaustion,
Wearing a mask.
You've learned to be so capable.
So independent.
So self-reliant.
But that strength,
It was built out of necessity.
It came from the times you had no choice.
From the people who didn't show up.
From the disappointments you learned not to expect anything from.
And I just want to say,
Of course you over-function.
Of course you struggle to ask for help.
Of course your nervous system doesn't trust rest.
You weren't wrong for surviving that way.
You were brilliant.
Your body is telling the truth.
Your spirit is whispering that it's too much.
And your soul?
Your soul is aching for something softer.
You don't have to prove your worth by doing more.
You don't have to earn rest by collapsing.
You don't have to feel guilty for needing more than the bare minimum.
You give so much.
But you deserve to receive too.
What if this wasn't about being selfish?
But about being honest?
What if letting someone in?
Not perfectly.
Not all the way.
What if it wasn't weakness?
But wisdom?
You're not failing.
You're not broken.
You're just tired.
And tired people deserve care too.
I want you to imagine a version of yourself.
Standing in the doorway of a quiet room.
She looks like you.
She is you.
But she's tired in a way that goes beyond sleep.
There's something in her eyes.
An ache.
A sadness she hasn't spoken aloud.
A hope she's slowly learned to silence.
She's still doing everything.
Still showing up.
Still smiling when it's expected.
Still pouring from the cup that hasn't been full in years.
But something in her is cracking.
The tears are closer to the surface now.
The resentment sharper.
The loneliness louder.
You watch her from a distance.
And you see it all.
How hard she's tried.
How much she's held.
How deeply she just wants someone to say,
I see you.
I see what it's cost you.
So walk into the room.
Not to fix her.
Not to lecture her.
Just to sit beside her.
Maybe place your hand on hers.
Or just sit in the silence.
Letting her know without words.
That she's not alone anymore.
When you're ready.
Speak to her softly.
Not with solutions.
But with truth.
You might say something like,
You're allowed to need more.
You're not too much.
You've just had too little for too long.
You don't have to do it all to be loved.
You're still here.
And that matters.
Watch her soften.
Watch her breathe.
Watch her remember.
That she's not invisible.
Stay with her as long as you like.
This space is always open.
And so is your softness.
Take a slow breath.
Let it rise.
And fall.
You've done something brave by pausing.
By telling the truth.
Even silently.
About how much you're carrying.
About how tired you are.
You don't need to figure anything out right now.
There's no decision to make.
No solution to chase.
Just this moment.
Just your breath.
Just your being.
Let your shoulders soften.
Let your belly rest.
Let your jaw unclench.
If there's still emotion moving through you.
Let it.
Tears?
Stillness?
Resistance?
It's all welcome here.
And hear this.
As if spoken directly to your soul.
You are not selfish.
You're allowed to feel everything.
And you're allowed to want more.
May this moment stay with you.
In the quiet hours.
In the hard conversations.
In the moments you start to disappear again.
And may it remind you.
That you deserve not just to survive your relationships.
But to feel seen in them.
You've given so much.
Now let yourself receive.
Even if it's just this moment.
I hope this meditation landed with you.
In the way you needed it to.
I hope you feel just a little more seen.
A little more softened.
A little more you.
Thank you for being here.
Thank you for showing up.
You did something beautiful by pausing.
Let that be enough.
