I Wasn’t Just Tired — My Heart Was Missing God

There was a season in my life when I felt endlessly tired.

Not the kind of tired that disappears after a good night’s sleep, but a deeper exhaustion — one that lingered no matter how much rest I got.

At first, I blamed the obvious things. Motherhood. Responsibilities. The constant noise of daily life. I told myself this was normal, that everyone felt this way. I learned how to function while tired, how to smile while my heart felt heavy, how to keep going even when something inside me felt quietly empty.

But the tiredness didn’t leave.

It followed me into my mornings and sat beside me in the evenings. It showed up in moments that were supposed to feel joyful. And slowly, I began to understand something I had been avoiding: this wasn’t physical exhaustion alone. It was something deeper.

I had been living on autopilot — doing what needed to be done, but rarely pausing to check in with my own soul. My days were full, yet my heart felt strangely distant. I was present in my life, but disconnected from myself.

One evening, after a long and overwhelming day, I sat in silence. No phone. No distractions. Just stillness. And in that quiet, a thought came to me gently, not accusing, not harsh — just honest.

I wasn’t just tired.

My heart was missing God.

That realization didn’t come with guilt or fear. It came with clarity. I saw how slowly I had drifted — not by choice, but by distraction. Life had grown loud, and in that noise, I had forgotten the One who brings peace to the heart.

I didn’t change everything overnight. I didn’t suddenly become perfect or consistent. I simply started small.

A quiet moment of reflection.

A short prayer whispered between tasks.

A pause to remember Allah in the middle of ordinary days.

And something began to shift.

The tiredness didn’t vanish, but it softened. My days didn’t become easier, but they became lighter. I felt supported in a way that rest alone had never given me. I was reminded that strength doesn’t always come from doing more — sometimes it comes from returning.

I learned that the heart, just like the body, needs nourishment. When we ignore it for too long, it grows weary. And when we gently care for it, it begins to heal.

This season taught me an important lesson: not every form of exhaustion is meant to be fixed with productivity or rest. Some tiredness is a sign that the soul is asking to be remembered.

If you are reading this and feeling deeply tired — even after rest — know that you are not alone. And know that it does not mean you are weak. Sometimes it simply means your heart needs reconnection.

There is no shame in slowing down. No failure in returning. Healing often begins the moment we listen.

For me, it began when I stopped running on empty and turned back — softly, imperfectly — to Allah. And in that return, I found a kind of rest I didn’t know I was missing.