Back when I worked in an office, I saw the same almost rehearsed scene play out daily among my colleagues. During lunch, surrounded by plastic containers and a bit too strong coffee, they’d gather around the table—not to chat about what they cooked, their weekend plans, or dreams—but to compare who was the most exhausted. Who stayed late the night before. Who slept the least. Which client was the most annoying. Who was still getting emails at 10 p.m.
This wasn’t honest complaining. Not a cry for help or a budding revolution demanding change. It was a competition.
And there I was, wishing I could say: go home earlier. Set boundaries. Don’t answer emails at night. Tell the client that’s not okay. But I knew the response would be:
“I can’t.”
“That’s just how it is.”
“If I don’t do it, someone else will.”
And of course, the unspoken line: if I can’t handle it, I’m weak.
Fatigue Became a Status Symbol
Proof that we matter. That we’re needed. That we’re irreplaceable. The more exhausted you look, the more you send the message: I’ve got a lot on my plate, what I do counts, life is buzzing around me. Being well-rested, on the other hand, feels suspicious. What does “I slept well” even mean? That you had the time? That you’re not busy enough? That you’re not working hard enough?
The strangest part is that this mindset isn’t just at work. It’s woven into everyday conversations. When we ask “How are you?” we rarely say, “Good, balanced, well-rested.” It feels like a luxury. Like we need to apologize for it. “Good, but you know… lots of work.” “Okay for now, but barely sleeping.” We quickly add a hardship so no one thinks we’re slacking off while the world’s falling apart around us.
Of course, some life phases make exhaustion unavoidable—parenting young kids, illness, crises, deadlines. We can’t keep everything perfectly balanced, and we don’t have to.
The problem starts when we normalize not just temporary tiredness, but exhaustion as the default. When we believe we have to live this way. That we’re only valuable when it hurts.
I think many don’t set boundaries not because it’s impossible, but because they’re scared. Scared that saying no will make them less important. Afraid of becoming replaceable. Afraid the world will keep turning without them. And that’s a scary thought.
But constant exhaustion isn’t a virtue. It’s not proof of loyalty, talent, or commitment. It’s a warning sign. Our body and nervous system are trying to tell us it’s too much. And the more we silence that voice, the louder it comes back—in burnout, anxiety, and illness.
Maybe it’s time to choose new status symbols. Like being able to sleep well. To say no. To have a life outside work. To not panic about not replying immediately. These aren’t signs of laziness—they’re signs of self-awareness and courage.
And it might feel strange at first to say at the lunch table, “Actually, I’m well-rested.” It might be met with silence. But maybe it will spark something in someone else. And they’ll realize it’s not exhaustion that makes us valuable—it’s that we can stay human through it.
