There’s tired… and then there’s this.
Cancer fatigue is a beast all its own. It’s not just about needing a nap or feeling groggy in the morning. It’s like your body is made of cement. Like gravity is working overtime just for you. And no amount of sleep seems to fix it.
This kind of exhaustion isn’t always visible. But it’s always there. Lingering in my bones. Shadowing every task. Reminding me that even when I’m “resting,” my body is still fighting.
WHAT IT FEELS LIKE
It feels like being underwater. All the time.
Like walking through molasses, trying to focus when your brain keeps fogging over and your limbs are saying nope, not today.
I wake up tired. I go to bed tired. Sometimes I nap in the middle and still feel like I’ve run a marathon — except the only thing I’ve actually done is brush my teeth and sit on the couch.
It’s not lazy. It’s not depression. It’s not from staying up too late. It’s cancer. It’s chemo. It’s radiation. It’s the constant mental load of fighting for your own life.
THE GUILT THAT COMES WITH IT
The fatigue would be one thing if it came alone. But it often brings guilt as its plus one.
Guilt for canceling plans.
Guilt for not responding to texts.
Guilt for not being the friend/partner/patient/fur mom I want to be.
Some days I feel like I’m letting people down just by needing rest. Even though I know — logically — that rest is part of healing.
Still, I catch myself apologizing. For being too tired to talk. Too tired to walk the dog. Too tired to shower. Too tired to pretend.
PEOPLE DON’T ALWAYS GET IT
It’s hard to explain to someone who hasn’t lived it. When you say “I’m tired,” people think they understand. They compare it to staying up too late or having a newborn or working overtime. But it’s not that.
This isn’t something you sleep off. This is something you learn to live around.
So you start rationing your energy. You weigh everything like currency:
If I shower, I probably won’t have the energy to make lunch.
If I go to that appointment, I may need to cancel everything else for the week.
If I see people, I need at least a day of recovery after.
It’s not laziness. It’s logistics.
THE THINGS THAT HELP
Rest.
Hydration.
Mojo curling up against me like a weighted blanket with a heartbeat.
People who understand that “no” doesn’t need an explanation.
People who still invite me even if I might cancel.
People who say, “Take your time,” and actually mean it.
Fatigue has forced me to slow down — and sometimes that slowing down feels like a failure. But it’s not. It’s a survival skill. And one I’m still learning to respect.
If you’re dealing with this kind of fatigue, I want you to know this:
You are not weak.
You are not lazy.
You are not alone.
You’re carrying more than most people will ever see. And every time you choose rest over guilt, boundaries over burnout, and grace over pressure — you are doing something powerful.
Even if your body is still. Even if you’re curled up on the couch with a heating pad and a Frenchie. You are still fighting. And that matters.
-Izzy & Mojo
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