I used to think rest meant sleeping longer. But I’ve realized there’s an unhinged kind of exhaustion that sleep cannot touch. It surfaces when you’ve carried emotional baggage for too long, lived under the weight of expectations that repeatedly end in disappointment, and spent too many nights awake at 2 a.m. wrestling with thoughts that refuse to quiet down.
In Nigeria today, that exhaustion feels almost collective.
Beyond personal struggles, many people are carrying the burden of living in a country that constantly demands resilience from them. Insecurity has become frighteningly common. Children are kidnapped from schools, families live in fear, and lives are lost with alarming regularity. Meanwhile, those entrusted with protecting citizens often appear powerless, indifferent, or detached from the realities ordinary people face.
Add that to the pressure of providing for families in a difficult economy, navigating workplace stress, managing personal battles, and trying to hold onto hope amid uncertainty, and it becomes clear why so many people are tired in ways that sleep cannot cure.
The thing about emotional exhaustion is that it often goes unnoticed. The bourgeoisie may not see it. The proletarians still show up. They still laugh, go to work, post online, and keep moving. But internally, many are hanging on by threads nobody notices.
And that is exactly why kindness matters.
You never truly know what someone is surviving quietly. Sometimes people do not need lectures, unsolicited advice, or motivational pressure. Sometimes they need softness. Understanding, space to breathe and maybe a reminder that their efforts are seen and appreciated.
If you’ve been feeling emotionally heavy lately, I hope life becomes gentler with you soon. And if someone around you seems a little withdrawn, or a little worn down, perhaps offer them the kindness you would want on your hardest days.
Images are mine
