Some days feel heavier than others. Days when I wander through the hours as if they’re covered in fog. I can’t quite name it, can’t quite point to the cause—it’s just there. A dull weight. A dragging undertow.
When I look back, I can sometimes trace the reasons. Too little sleep. Too much fast food. A pile of stress left to grow instead of being untangled. But is that really the cause, or just the evidence?
I’ve come to see it this way: the slumps are my mind and body’s way of sounding the alarm. Telling me that something is off balance. That I haven’t taken proper care. That it’s time to pause.
It’s like falling into one of those whirlpools in the river—you spin round and round, dizzy, not knowing which way is out. And the more you fight it, the deeper you get pulled.
Today, I want to hold that experience up to the light. Not to chase it away, but to recognise it. To admit, this is where I am. And maybe, by naming it, find a way through.
Because the truth is—we all fall into the slumps. What matters is not pretending we don’t. What matters is how we listen to what they’re trying to tell us.