*On Fatigue | Maya Tevet Dayan | 6 Minutes on Friday | July 11, 2025*
On Sunday this week, we gathered again on Zoom for “Writing the Situation”, and I asked the hundreds of people writing with me: “how are you doing?” I asked them to respond in the chat with one word. And right before my eyes, the words began to pile up: tired. exhausted. done. drained. yawning. sleepy.
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I wasn’t surprised. When I asked myself before the meeting how I was doing, that was my word too: tired. Really, really tired. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” a close friend said the next day, “I’ve just been wiped out this whole week.” Even the woman at the checkout line in the supermarket apologized to the customer in front of me for moving at a snail’s pace. And when I asked a neighbor in the elevator how she was doing, she simply yawned.
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I read somewhere that after the adrenaline rush of intense days, we go through a kind of slump, and it shows up even in our brain chemistry. For some people it can feel like real depression. In a more spiritual group I follow, they explained that we’re all going through a spiritual upgrade. A lot of energy is needed to reach a soul level we’ve never known before, and they recommend nourishing ourselves with the energy of the sun and the earth, the darkness and the light—getting fed by cosmic energy! And being extra mindful about what content we consume on our phones.
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I remembered that in my family, fatigue wasn’t something you talked about. It wasn’t even really allowed—especially not for women. I wrote in “Feminism, As I Taught My Daughters” how the women in my family never went to sleep. They would say, “I’m just putting my feet up for a minute,” or “just straightening my back,” or “just resting my head for a moment.”
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At some point I realized it wasn’t just in my family. Women in general don’t feel they have permission to be tired and to rest. Mothering happens around the clock—even during postpartum. Relationships happen around the clock. And if, on top of that, you’re also working, and managing the cooking and cleaning, and on top of that there’s a war—and it’s ongoing—then of course.
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Anyway, you can read more about this forbidden fatigue in my book (soon in English). Right now, I want to talk about the kind of tiredness that’s showing up for so many of us these days in Israel, and I suspect in the diaspora too. The kind that settles on you like a heavy blanket in July, and all you can think about is sneaking off to nap for a few minutes. My writers community wrote beautiful poems about this exhaustion. Someone even wrote one about Leah, our biblical matriarch—who might just have the most tired name in the entire Bible.
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So what can we do with this kind of fatigue? By some miracle, Mel Robbins released a podcast just this month asking that exact question, and she offered seven fixes for fatigue. You only need to try one of them, she says, to pull yourself out of this fog and into a more alert, alive state. Her suggestions sound deceptively simple, but the research says they work.
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First, she suggests looking at photos of people you love. Studies show that beyond reminding us who we love and who loves us, looking at photos reminds the brain that this moment is part of a whole string of moments—just one among many. Amazingly, the brain relives the moment in the photo with the same joy and presence as the original. I remembered how my grandmother always carried photos in her wallet. She’d pull one out, smile, and just like that—change the moment.
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Second, she suggests turning the kitchen into a dance club. In other words, put a speaker in there—and anytime you go in to do something mundane, like peeling an onion, turn on some music and dance your way through it. Of all physical activities, dance is the one most proven to prevent Alzheimer’s. It activates and sharpens the brain more than anything else.
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Third, she suggests showing up for someone else—reaching out when they need something, or even just sending them a message. Don’t hesitate or worry it’ll seem weird. Just imagining how they’ll feel when they get your words opens something inside you—and brings a smile to your face.
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Fourth, she suggests being a friend for eight minutes. Stop waiting until you have a whole hour to catch up with someone. That hour might never come. Instead, have an eight-minute call. It’s enough to wake up all the social parts of the brain that fall asleep when we’re isolated. It also strengthens the relationship, right now, without waiting for “someday.”
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Fifth, she suggests celebrating fully and completely when something good happens to someone around you. Don’t feel it came at your expense. Don’t get jealous. Don’t live in a scarcity mindset. Research shows that if you’re truly happy for others, your environment becomes one that is happy for you. If you hesitate to share good news with your friends, maybe it’s time to awaken that part of your life.
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Sixth, she suggests stepping outside for just one minute and gazing at something that fills you with awe. Even just the shape of a cloud. You wouldn’t believe how many studies support this.
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And seventh: remember the first names of the people around you. The parking attendant. The receptionist. The person washing your car. She gives some helpful tricks for remembering—and explains how this doesn’t just awaken you, but it also awakens the people whose names we remember.
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I’ve linked her podcast below. And I’ll close today with a poem by Dorianne Laux, who turns toward her own exhaustion and does something radical: she shows herself compassion.
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*Dust*
*By Dorianne Laux*
Someone spoke to me last night,
told me the truth. Just a few words,
but I recognized it.
I knew I should make myself get up,
write it down, but it was late,
and I was exhausted from working
all day in the garden, moving rocks.
Now, I remember only the flavor —
not like food, sweet or sharp.
More like a fine powder, like dust.
And I wasn’t elated or frightened,
but simply rapt, aware.
That’s how it is sometimes —
God comes to your window,
all bright light and black wings,
and you’re just too tired to open it
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Wishing us all Shabbat Shalom, and may we see our hostages home already this week.
*Maya Tevet Dayan*