When the Problem Isn’t the Problem but the Symptom:
A Personal Journey of Reclaiming Health, Habits, and Self
- 4 MIN READ TIME
There was a time not too long ago when I found myself operating in a haze.
I was sleeping—sometimes more than eight hours a night—but waking up just as tired as I’d gone to bed. My head felt foggy, like I was constantly trying to think through mist.
Motivation had slipped quietly out the back door.
Even the things I’d once loved—exercise, cooking, being creative, spending time with friends and family—felt like chores I couldn’t muster energy for.
I started withdrawing, shrinking my world down to work, home, and survival.
Everything felt heavy, like life had piled up and I was stuck underneath it. I was teary, emotional, reactive. My body was changing too—weight gain, sluggishness, and an ache that wasn’t just physical. I didn’t feel like myself anymore. And worst of all, I didn’t know how to climb out of it.
But here’s the truth I didn’t understand at the time: sleep wasn’t the problem. It was just the symptom. And the real work wasn’t just in fixing my habits—it was in facing the emotions that created them in the first place.
The Spiral of Coping
Like many people, I started unintentionally coping in all the wrong ways. I’d watch TV late into the night just to numb out, telling myself I needed downtime.
But I wasn’t giving my brain or body a chance to switch off. I was reaching for caffeine well into the afternoon to push through the slump, and skipping proper meals or eating whatever was easy. My once-loved kitchen became a place of obligation, not joy.
Each poor decision fed the next. I’d wake up tired, so I’d skip exercise.
I’d feel guilty about not exercising, so I’d isolate. I’d isolate, feel lonely, then eat poorly or stay up later. And around and around I went.
And with every loop, the inner voice of self-judgement grew louder: Why can’t you just get it together? You know better than this. You’re failing.
That’s the part we don’t talk about enough—the guilt. The anger. The sense that you’re disappointing yourself over and over. That emotional spiral is often more exhausting than the physical one.
Realising the Real Problem
The turning point didn’t come from one big epiphany. It came from an uncomfortable moment of honesty. I admitted to myself that I was feeling lost. That I’d been numbing instead of nurturing. That I wasn’t lazy—I was emotionally and mentally overwhelmed.
That shift in thinking changed everything. I stopped asking, How do I fix my sleep? and started asking, What’s weighing on me that’s keeping me awake in the first place?
Rebuilding, One Small Step at a Time
Here’s what I did—not all at once, but step by step, over weeks and months:
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Cut the Caffeine After Noon
This small change made a surprising difference. It was tough at first, but my sleep slowly began to deepen. It also made me more aware of how much I’d been relying on external energy sources instead of tuning into what my body actually needed. -
Created an Evening Wind-Down Ritual
No screens after 8:30pm. Instead, I swapped TV time for a warm shower, soft lighting, and either reading or journaling. I had to train my brain that bedtime was coming and it was safe to slow down. -
Started Moving Again—Gently
I didn’t jump into a bootcamp (that was my old approach). I started with 10-minute walks on the treadmill in the garage. Movement reminded me that my body wasn’t broken—it was just neglected. -
Reconnected with Cooking, One Meal at a Time
I challenged myself to cook just one nourishing meal a day. I played music and danced to the beat, opened the windows, and let it be an act of self-care, not performance. -
Reached Out, Even When I Didn’t Feel Like It
I made a list of three people I felt safe with and made a plan to catch up with each one over a few weeks. It wasn’t always easy, but it reminded me that I wasn’t alone—and that connection is a powerful antidote to emotional fatigue. -
Practiced Self-Compassion—Out Loud
I started talking to myself like I would a friend: You’re doing your best. You’re not failing. You’re healing. And I gave myself permission to start again, as many times as it took.
What Changed
The most noticeable shift wasn’t just in my energy or the quality of my sleep (though both improved). It was in how I felt about myself. I stopped seeing my struggles as a sign of weakness and started seeing them as signals. Indicators that something deeper needed attention.
I felt lighter—not because life was suddenly easier, but because I was no longer carrying the shame of pretending I was okay.
My passion for food and movement returned slowly. I started to look forward to mornings again, waking early to start the day with movement, strength and intention. My need to be creative slowly returned, with joy and excitement. And perhaps most importantly, I began to trust myself again.
The Takeaway
If you’re in the thick of it, here’s what I want you to know: the habits are the surface. The real work is underneath. It’s in untangling the beliefs and emotions that led to the habits in the first place.
Start small. Be curious, not critical.
And remember, sometimes the problem isn’t the problem. It’s just a doorway to the part of you that needs the most care.
