Your exhaustion isn’t a flaw—It’s a faithful messenger

Have you ever felt like your body was working against you?

Like no matter how hard you push, how tight you grip your to-do list—it just gives out?

What if that shutdown wasn’t failure... but embodied wisdom?

We live in a society that treats the body like a machine. Productivity is praised. Rest is rationed. And worth is tied to output.

From an early age, many of us were taught to override our physical needs in service of a bigger goal. Whether that was making our families proud, securing a future, or proving our worth in spaces that weren’t built for us—we learned that our minds mattered more than our bodies. We were taught that discipline meant pushing through pain, and that exhaustion was just a side effect of excellence.

For years, I internalized this message. I thought I was strong because I could keep going - "Mind over matter." But in reality, I was just disconnected—from my body, my peace, and from the truth God had been whispering all along.

So when I started falling asleep in unexpected places… when my body would shut down on me after putting my son to bed— I thought I was failing.

I could hardly stay alert past his bedtime. My evenings would disappear in a fog of exhaustion. I’d collapse on the couch with unfinished tasks swirling in my mind, hardly able to move.

I felt weak. Embarrassed. Like something was wrong with me for not being able to keep going.

But my body wasn’t betraying me. It was reclaiming the rest and care that I wasn't giving.

The deeper truth is this: we are living in a system that was never built to honor our humanity. Capitalism values output. White supremacy values control. And patriarchy values obedience. And as Black women of faith, we often find ourselves carrying the burden of all three.

We are taught to push through. To stay up late and rise early. To give more than we have. To smile when we’re exhausted. To serve even when we’re suffering.

We inherit this way of living through generations of survival. During slavery, our ancestors’ bodies were only given the bare minimum needed to continue working. Restfulness was a threat to profit - working time was money.

That mindset didn’t just vanish. It evolved. It seeped into our systems, our homes - even some of our churches. We carry the echoes of that conditioning in our bones.

It became normal.

But what’s normalized isn’t always healthy or Godly.

I used to think I had to push harder to fulfill my purpose. That being tired was a badge of honor. That my body was just something I had to discipline into submission.

But then the burnout came. And no amount of willpower could fix what was broken.

My body had become the battleground for all the lies I’d been taught about strength, faith, and success.

And eventually, it stopped asking. It started demanding rest and care.

When my father was living, he was deeply committed to his physical health. He exercised regularly and LOVED his Peloton.

Then one day, while on vacation, he died suddenly in a tragic accident.

To say I was heartbroken doesn’t begin to capture the weight of it. I was utterly shattered.

About a week later, I had a dream about him. You know the kind—strange, floaty, a little surreal.

We were on a boat. He kept appearing in different forms—young, middle-aged, older. 

I was being goofy, like we always were together. I was talking nonsense— about getting wings and flying. Almost giddy,

But then the dream shifted.

My father turned serious. He looked me straight in the eye, his face filled with concern.

“Take care of your body. You only get one.”

I brushed it off in the dream— just like I used to when he said things like that in real life. I asked again about the wings.

But when I woke up, that moment—his voice, that concern—it stuck.

That morning, I rolled out of bed, stepped onto my rug, and opened the Peloton app for yoga.

I emphasized care of my body in a different way after that.

This was part of my grieving journey— but it was also something more.

I believe this was a spiritual push I needed to take my physical restoration more seriously.

That dream didn’t just jolt me into a new habit—it woke me up to a truth that had been buried beneath years of burnout and cultural conditioning.

Our bodies are not the enemy. They are sacred.

And yet, in so many churches, we’ve been taught to mistrust them. We've heard about 'the flesh' as if it is something only to be battled—only sinful, only weak. This misreading has made it easy to ignore the body’s wisdom, to view its needs as a distraction from our spiritual growth.

But God never said the body was the problem. God created it. And called it good.

We are not just spiritual beings trapped in flawed flesh. We are divine creations—embodied on purpose.

Every cell, every breath, every ache and sensation—fearfully and wonderfully made.

But so many of us were taught to treat our bodies as something superfluous. As if they are disposable bags, which we have to use for now. We have been taught to emphasize our spiritual experience. 

Yet Jesus didn’t treat bodies that way.

He touched.

He healed.

He fed.

He rested.

This is not the behavior of a God who dismisses our bodies. This is a God who honors it.

Your body is not a problem to push through—it is a vessel of divine presence.

This is the mindset change I had to embrace: that honoring my body is not weakness—it’s wisdom. That rest is not rebellion—it’s reverence. And that fatigue is not failure—it’s a faithful messenger asking me to listen.

I had to unlearn the grind. To untangle myself from the myth that strength means pushing through at all costs. I had to stop treating my body like a barrier to spiritual growth and start seeing it as the very vessel God chose to breathe into.

We were never meant to chase purpose at the expense of the body God handcrafted.

Even science now echoes what Scripture always said: mind, body, and spirit are inseparable. The body keeps the score—carrying every unspoken burden, every unprocessed ache, until it shows up as tension, fatigue, or disease.

Research has found that Black women are particularly vulnerable. Because of generations of survival-mode living, compounded by racism, misogynoir, and the cultural expectation to always be strong, we’ve been taught to suppress our emotions just to get through the day. Over time, this internalized stress becomes corrosive—research shows that Black women are disproportionately diagnosed with autoimmune diseases, where the body quite literally turns against itself after years of holding too much, too quietly, for too long. 

This is not a coincidence. This is the cost of ignoring what our bodies are begging us to feel, to express, to release.

Burnout doesn’t just leave you tired—it leaves you fragmented. But healing begins when you reconnect with the temple God entrusted to you.

And something beautiful happens when you do.

The more I listened to my body, the more clearly I felt God. The more I slowed down, the more I could see what actually mattered. That shift didn’t just help me survive—it brought me back to my assignment with more clarity, compassion, and spirit-led confidence

And hey—full transparency? I even unapologetically paused for a cat nap while writing this article. That rest didn’t delay the work—it deepened it.

And what gives me great joy? I know my father would be proud of how I care for my body now.

When you begin to understand the toll that chronic stress and suppressed emotion take on your physical body—especially as a Black woman—it becomes harder to ignore what your nervous system is trying to say.

God didn’t design us to override our bodies. He designed us to live in them—with reverence.

So if your body is crying out—through exhaustion, inflammation, headaches, or shutdowns—that’s not failure. That’s a warning.

You weren’t created to grind yourself down. You were formed from dust, breathed into by God, made in His image—and called very good.

If that’s true, then caring for your body isn’t selfish or shallow. It’s sacred stewardship.

And let’s be clear: ignoring these signals comes at a cost.

Eventually, your body will force a halt—through illness, collapse, or numbness so loud it drowns out your purpose.

Don’t wait for the crash. Let this be the turning point.

If you're ready to respond to the call—if your body and your spirit are both asking for a new way—here are three invitations to begin your return.

🧘🏽‍♀️ Pause before pushing.
This culture tells us that pushing through is strength. But sacred strength begins with listening. Before you jump to the next task, take 60 seconds to ask: “What does my body need right now?”

Not what’s on the calendar. Not what’s expected. But what’s needed.
Maybe it’s water. A long exhale. A stretch. A pause. A prayer.
And when you hear it? Honor it. You don’t need to earn rest with productivity. God already said your body was worthy.

And we don’t need to be unrealistic. Sometimes a task or a moment really does call for a push—but that should be the exception, not the rhythm. Our work is to develop discernment, so pushing becomes a rare response—not our default mode.

🪂 Practice embodied worship.
We often think of worship as something that happens only in our minds or voices—but your body is a part of the praise.
So walk slowly and pray. Stretch as a form of surrender. Dance as a declaration of joy. Lay prostrate as a gesture of holy trust. Breathe deeply as a form of prayer—basking in the gift of God's Spirit within that breath.
Let your physical movement be a mirror of spiritual connection. Your body was made for communion—not just production.

🛌 Reframe your relationship with sleep and rest.
Sleep isn’t a luxury—it’s a holy rhythm. God made it a requirement for living.
To rest is to trust that God holds the world (and your to-do list) even while you sleep. It is a physical act of surrender, a reclaiming of divine rhythm.

“He who watches over you will not slumber… the Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.” — Psalm 121:3,8

Remember—sleep is one physical manifestation of rest, but it isn't the only one. Rest can look like stepping away from noise to enjoy stillness. It can look like creative play, journaling, or listening to music that soothes your soul. It can even look like laughter with a friend, or a walk without a destination. Social and imaginative forms of rest restore the parts of us that stay hidden behind productivity. Don’t limit God’s invitation to restore you to just one method. 

Let your rest be a declaration: I am not God. And I don’t have to be.

In my coaching program, I guide high-achieving women of faith through a deeply restorative journey—one that honors your mind, your body, and your spirit.

This is a sacred, strategic space to heal what’s been overworked, overlooked, and spiritually malnourished.

We don’t just do mindset work—we tend to the whole body. That includes nervous system regulation, somatic awareness, spiritual anchoring, and rebuilding your rhythms around what actually sustains you.

Together, we create a pace that honors your purpose and your capacity. We develop spiritual and embodied practices that help you hear from God more clearly—because your body is no longer begging for attention.

This isn’t about doing more—or checking exercise off a to-do list.. It’s about remembering who you are. Reconnecting to what matters. And moving through your days with clarity, compassion, and holy confidence.

From surviving to stewarding. From depletion to divine ease. That’s what we build together.

If this stirred something in your spirit—if you’re tired of overriding your body, tired of mistaking burnout for purpose—let this be your invitation.

📩 Reply “FREEDOM” to this email or [click here] to book your free 1:1 clarity session.

In our call, we’ll talk about where you’re stuck, where your body has been speaking, and what it would feel like to step into a gentler, Spirit-led rhythm where your body and your purpose are no longer at odds.

You don’t need to find your way to healing alone. You don’t have to carry your purpose in a body that’s falling apart.

You deserve to walk in alignment—with your purpose and your peace.

And it starts with one faithful yes.

Your body is wise.

It remembers what your mind forgot.

And it’s inviting you back to wholeness.

You are not behind. You are not too late.

You are exactly where you need to be for healing to begin.

With love and clarity,
Dr. Devin

liberatedpathscoaching.com 

👋🏾 P.S. This space is sacred, and it’s growing. If you're new here, welcome to The Spirit-Led Path to Ease. I’m so glad you’re here.

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