The Aesthetics of Collapse
...why my body feels like a glitched-out tamagotchi
Recently, someone asked me how I’ve been taking care of myself lately.
And I said: "I haven’t."
I wasn’t trying to be dramatic. I meant it literally. I’ve been running on whatever is the human version of low power mode. Sleeping poorly, moving robotically, eating weird little meals standing up in the kitchen. My body feels like it’s constantly buffering.
Let’s call it: body exhaustion.
Not the cute kind. Not the -I just finished a Pilates class and need a protein smoothie kind of tired. I’m talking about the soul-level depletion. The kind where you're not even sure if you're hungry or just vaguely dizzy. The kind where rest doesn’t feel restorative anymore… it feels like a joke you’re not in on.
And the worst part? It doesn’t always look like anything’s wrong.
I still get things done. I still say “haha no worries!” in texts. I still post a photo with natural light and a caption about slowing down, even though I haven’t actually slowed down in months. But internally? I feel like a collapsing building that’s still technically open to the public. The scaffolding is doing all the work.
This is what body exhaustion looks like for me:
Sleeping 8 hours and waking up like I fought demons in my dreams
Moving in slow motion, even though my brain is spinning at 100 mph
Feeling bloated, inflamed, out of whack, but too tired to investigate
Skipping meals, then randomly eating hummus and a carrots at 2 p.m like I’m on a sad picnic for one
Wanting to move but resenting the idea of effort
Stretching for 30 seconds and calling it “restorative movement”
Living off caffeine and vibes
Googling “chronic fatigue or just vibes?” (again)
Yesterday evening, I was exhausted. Not from anything intense, just from my weekend morning walk. A casual, 45-minute stroll. The kind of thing that’s supposed to ground me, clear my head, get me back in my body. But there I was, limp on the floor, like I’d just returned from war.
How does that make sense?
How have we reached a point where gentle movement feels like too much?
Where even restorative things become another thing to recover from?
Here’s the real scam:
We’re told we can optimise ourselves out of exhaustion. That burnout is a branding issue. That if we just meditate more, journal more, drink water with lemon at 7 a.m., we’ll stop feeling like shit.
So we buy the serums. The sprays. The mushroom powders. We design little rituals and call them routines. But nothing is sinking in because we never actually stop. We self-care ourselves into deeper depletion.
And somewhere along the line, rest became something to earn. Exhaustion became something to aestheticise. And our bodies- fragile, brilliant, burnt-out bodies, became something to manage, instead of listen to.
This is what I’m unlearning:
You don’t need to be falling apart to deserve rest.
You don’t need to do something hard to justify slowing down.
You don’t need to pretend you’re fine when you’re not.
I want to feel inside my body again. I want rest that isn’t another form of labour. I want to eat food that tastes like care. I want joy, not just functionality.
I want softness. Stillness. Staring at the wall for 20 minutes because my brain finally feels safe enough to go quiet.
Because I’m not a machine. I’m not a brand. I’m not a productivity tool with legs.
I’m a body.
And I’m tired.
Footnotes & references:
Tamagotchi: early 2000s electronic pet. Also me, blinking sadly when I forget to eat
“Girl dinner”: the culture’s cry for help disguised as minimalism
Mushroom powders: unsure if they're helping or if I’m just paying £30 for dirt in a jar
Influences: Rest Is Resistance by Tricia Hersey, Burnout by Emily & Amelia Nagoski, and the deep sigh of every woman I know
Best consumed with: a hot drink, a long stretch, and at least 7 unspoken thoughts about quitting everything and moving to a quiet town where no one knows your name
Playlist: “Tired but Trying”
I’ve paired a few songs that reflect that exhausted, stretched-too-thin, but somehow still striving vibe. These tracks may feel a little melancholic, but they’ll remind you that you’re not alone in this. Play them as you unwind, stretch, or let your body sink into stillness.
A Soft Invitation:
Before you leave this page, I want to gently invite you to check in with your own body.
How is it really feeling today?
Where do you feel tension or discomfort?
When was the last time you rested without guilt or shame?
Can you give yourself a moment of softness, just for today?
Because you deserve to listen to your body, even when it’s telling you to slow down.
- B
"You do not need to be falling apart to deserve rest" is a good lesson. One that might take a while to internalize. It reminds me of something you wrote about slowing down or slowness, something like that. the googling part is so relatable. Thanks for sharing.