My Mind Was Running a Marathon While I Was Lying Still
Introduction
For the longest time, I viewed my bed as a place of defeat. I would lie there, paralyzed by a heavy, lead-like fatigue, watching the hours slip away. While the sun moved across the sky, my internal critic was screaming. "You’re wasting your life," it would hiss. "Look at everyone else—they are achieving, building, and moving. You are just lying here." I felt a deep, burning shame because I believed my exhaustion was a sign of a weak character. I thought I was just "lazy" or "failing" at being a functional human being. However, I eventually realized something that changed my entire perspective: my mind was running a marathon while I was lying still.
When you live with chronic anxiety and depression, your body might be stationary, but your internal systems are operating at a level of intensity that most people only experience during a crisis. You aren't "doing nothing." You are managing a turbulent sea of intrusive thoughts, regulating a dysregulated nervous system, and trying to survive a mental environment that feels like a war zone. This invisible labor consumes massive amounts of energy. Consequently, the fatigue you feel is not a lack of willpower; it is a physiological debt. Today, I want to explore why we must stop the "second arrow" of guilt and finally acknowledge the sheer strength it takes to simply exist when your mind is running a race you never signed up for.
This space at Not Just Me is dedicated to exploring how we move beyond the isolation of these conditions. This post explores how we can bridge that gap through integration and Mind Body Wellness.
The Invisible Intensity of My Mind Running a Marathon
To understand why we feel so drained, we have to look at the biology of mental health. The human brain is a greedy organ; it accounts for only about 2% of our body weight but consumes roughly 20% of our total energy. When you are in a state of high anxiety, that energy consumption spikes. Your amygdala is firing off "danger" signals, your adrenal glands are pumping out cortisol, and your prefrontal cortex is working overtime to try and "solve" problems that haven't even happened yet.
When I say my mind was running a marathon, I mean that my nervous system was stuck in "Fight or Flight" mode for sixteen hours a day. Imagine keeping a car engine revving at the red line while the car is in park. The car isn't going anywhere, but it’s burning through fuel, the engine is overheating, and the parts are wearing down. That is exactly what happens to a person with an anxiety disorder. You are stationary, but your "engine" is under immense mechanical stress.
| My body was still, but my soul was out of breath. |
Why Depression is a Full-Body Workout
While anxiety is the "revving engine," depression is the "weight." Living with depression is like walking through waist-deep water every single day. Every movement—getting out of bed, brushing your teeth, answering a text—requires ten times the effort it takes a neurotypical person. This is why you feel hit by a truck by 2 PM even if you’ve done "nothing" productive.
The invisible labor of depression involves constantly fighting the gravity of hopelessness. It is the work of convincing yourself to stay, the work of processing heavy grief, and the work of masking your pain so others won't feel uncomfortable. If you had spent the day carrying a hundred-pound backpack up a mountain, no one would call you lazy for needing a nap. Depression is that hundred-pound backpack, and it’s permanently strapped to your soul. We must stop judging our rest by the output of our hands and start judging it by the burden on our hearts.
This is the work we explore at Not Just Me – The Soojz Project—where anxiety, depression, and self-esteem are understood as shared human experiences, not personal failures. Through mind–body awareness and nervous system regulation, we learn that healing doesn’t require perfection.
Breaking the Cycle of Productivity Guilt
The hardest part of this journey is deconstructing the "Hustle Culture" that tells us our worth is tied to our to-do lists. We have been conditioned to believe that rest is something you "earn" after you've been "good." But for those of us in the Not Just Me community, rest isn't a reward; it is a clinical necessity.
When you feel the guilt rising, remember the "Two Arrows" philosophy. The first arrow is the symptom—the exhaustion itself. That arrow hurts, but it is often unavoidable. The "second arrow" is the one we shoot at ourselves: the guilt, the shame, and the self-judgment. The second arrow is the one that turns a recovery day into a trauma day. By accepting that my mind was running a marathon, I learned to put down the second arrow. I started telling myself, "I am not lazy. I am recovering from a high-intensity internal event."
"If silence is the blueprint for growth, then this music is the air that fills the room. Quiet Peace : Back to Me was born from the realization that I am my own safe haven."
The Difference Between Laziness and "Freeze Response"
Many of us confuse "Laziness" with the "Freeze Response" of the nervous system. Laziness is a choice to avoid work for the sake of comfort. The Freeze Response is a survival mechanism where your brain decides that the environment (internal or external) is so overwhelming that the safest thing to do is shut down.
If you are lying there wanting to move, wishing you could be productive, and hating that you are stuck—that is not laziness. That is a physiological shutdown. Your body has pulled the emergency brake because it thinks you are in danger. Instead of fighting the brake, we need to address the "danger" (the anxiety or depression). You cannot shame a frozen nervous system into moving; you can only soothe it back into safety.
Recovering Me: Healing After Narcissistic Abuse
https://recoveringmeproject.blogspot.com/
Not Just Me : Finding Myself Beyond Anxiety and Depression
https://notjustmeproject.blogspot.com/
Reclaiming Your Identity Beyond the Fog
One of the most profound parts of the Not Just Me project is finding who you are when you aren't "doing." If you were stripped of your job, your chores, and your social obligations, who would be left? When I stopped blaming myself for my fatigue, I found a person who was resilient, deeply empathetic, and incredibly strong.
I realized that the fact I was still here, despite my mind running a marathon every day, was proof of my power, not my weakness. You are a marathon runner of the spirit. The stamina it takes to endure a mental health crisis is greater than the stamina it takes to sit in an office for eight hours. Start giving yourself credit for the miles you’ve covered in the dark.
How to "Rest" When Your Mind Won't Stop Running
True rest is a skill that must be practiced. If you are lying in bed but scrolling through social media and comparing your life to others, you are not resting—you are still running.
Lower the Sensory Input: Close the curtains, use a weighted blanket, or wear noise-canceling headphones. Give your nervous system a break from "input."
Externalize the Thoughts: If the marathon is in your head, get it on paper. Brain-dump every worry, then literally close the notebook.
Active Self-Compassion: Speak to yourself like you would a five-year-old who is exhausted. "You’ve had a really hard day. It makes sense that you’re tired. I’m going to stay here with you until you feel safe."
Conclusion
I once blamed myself for needing rest, but I now know that my worth is not a variable that changes based on my output. My mind was running a marathon while I was lying still, and it took me a long time to forgive myself for that. If you are in that place today—where the bed feels like a prison of your own making—please know that you are not alone. Your exhaustion is a physical reality, not a moral failing.
The weight you carry is heavy, and the race you are running is exhausting. You don't need to "earn" your breath, and you certainly don't need to justify your stillness to a world that doesn't see your internal battles. Rest is the most productive thing you can do when you are depleted. It is the act of gathering your scattered pieces so you can eventually stand up again.
Tonight, let the marathon end. Let the track fade away. You don’t have to run anymore today. You are allowed to be tired. You are allowed to be still. And most importantly, you are allowed to be enough exactly as you are—right now, on this couch, in this bed, in this moment. The world will wait for you. But for now, just breathe. You’ve covered so much ground already. It’s time to come home to yourself.
🪶 3 Takeaways
Validate the Effort: Acknowledge that mental health struggles are high-energy events that require physical recovery.
Stop the Self-Blame: Differentiate between the "Freeze Response" and laziness to remove the secondary layer of shame.
Rest is Proactive: View stillness as a vital part of your healing "work," not an interruption of it.
Are you tired of defending your character? Learn why toxic people create a "fictional version" of you and how to finally stop editing their script. I wrote a guide on how to survive the "integration zone" of healing. Read it here: https://recoveringmeproject.blogspot.com/
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