The Shame of Fatigue

Jasmine Baucham posted a wonderful piece over on Raising Homemakers:

Because the way I’ve ordered my life is counter-intuitive to most Americans, those days when I’m tired, overwhelmed, or even a tad bit frustrated seem almost to condemn me.

Why is that so?

Why, if I was pulling a full course load at Columbia while simultaneously interning for a renowned publishing house would it be all right for me to come home at night bushed and proud of it… but when my brothers test my patience, it’s seen as proof that I should have been doing something else with my life?

Why, if I were a renowned fiction-writer headed to a book signing while squawking to my publicist on my cellphone and trying to hear my latest interview on the radio would I feel a bit hectic… but when I’m a little frazzled with the multi-tasking with household chores do I feel the need to hide it under a fake smile?

Why do we feel that it’s okay to be tired only if we’re dressed in a power suit?

I don’t anymore, actually. When I get tired, when I get discouraged, when I get overwhelmed… I admit it. I try not to wallow in a pity puddle, but I also try not to be a Stepford Wife in training. I go to the foot of the cross and I heave a sigh of relief.

Read the entire piece HERE.

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