You are not lazy, stuck, or unmotivated. You are exhausted. There is a difference. After years of living in survival mode, your body and mind are simply tired. You’ve been running on adrenaline, holding yourself together through crisis after crisis, managing emotions that were never yours to carry, and trying to protect yourself and those you love. That kind of living takes everything out of you. It’s not that you lack drive or purpose—you’ve been in fight-or-flight for so long that your body has forgotten what peace feels like.
The Bible says, “Come to Me, all you who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28) Those words aren’t just an invitation—they are a promise. God knows the toll that trauma takes. He sees the nights you lie awake replaying memories you wish you could forget. He knows the weight you’ve been carrying—the anxiety, fear, grief—and He’s not asking you to push harder. He’s asking you to rest. Not the kind of rest that comes from a nap or a weekend off, but the soul-deep rest that only He can give.
When you’ve spent years surviving, slowing down feels wrong. Stillness can feel unsafe, even foreign. You’ve trained your body to stay alert, read every tone, and anticipate danger before it comes. Then, when the chaos finally ends, your system doesn’t automatically know you’re safe. It keeps scanning for threats, and you wonder why you can’t seem to focus, feel unmotivated, or cry for no reason. This isn’t weakness—it’s your nervous system recalibrating after years of living on edge.
The world glorifies productivity. It tells you that your worth is measured by how much you do, how much you give, and how much you accomplish. But God measures differently. He’s not asking you to perform—He’s asking you to come. To lay it all down. To stop striving for just a moment and let Him carry the weight you were never meant to bear alone.
This exhaustion you feel isn’t proof that you’re failing. It’s proof that you’ve been strong for too long. You survived what others may never understand. You kept going when it would have been easier to give up. And now, your body and soul ask for what they’ve been deprived of—gentleness, healing, and rest. It’s not that you don’t care anymore; it’s that you’ve finally reached the place where you can begin to breathe again.
You don’t have to earn the right to rest. You don’t have to justify slowing down. Jesus permitted you when He said, “Come to Me.” His rest is restorative—it doesn’t just refresh the body; it heals the soul. It reminds you that you are safe now, loved, and don’t have to keep proving your worth through effort.
So, if you feel unmotivated or “stuck,” don’t be hard on yourself. You are not lazy. You are recovering. You are healing from years of exhaustion, and your body has finally stopped masking. Give yourself the grace to slow down, to feel, to rest. Allow yourself to be renewed by the One who restores all things.
Because healing doesn’t come from pushing through—it comes from surrender. And in that surrender, you’ll find the peace you’ve longed for. You are not broken; You are tired. And that’s precisely who Jesus invites to come to Him—the weary, the burdened, the ones who’ve been fighting for far too long.
Let Him give you rest. The kind that quiets your soul, steadies your heart, and reminds you that you were never meant to do this alone.
Survivor Speaks Truth 