Tiresome Tiredness: Why are we tired at the worst times?

It’s the middle of a glorious day. You have more high-energy fun than you can possibly imagine. Everything seems to be going well, when suddenly, a sneaky faint fatigue seeps into you. At first, you ignore it. The minutes pass. It gets stronger and stronger till you finally call it a day. You crawl into bed wondering about all the interesting things you are going to miss out on.

Sounds familiar?


I remember a time when I could party till 5:00 am and go to work at 9:00 am.

Now, almost like Cinderella without the glass slippers and pumpkin coach, I begin making my goodbyes at 11:00 pm, so I can reach home, brush my teeth and switch off the lights by 12:00 am. I have no clue who allowed this tiresome tiredness into my life. I never invited it and I can’t figure how it managed to make a crack in my limitless enthusiasm.

Before, making five different plans with ten different people was routine. Yes, let’s catch up for pizza, then we can go to John’s for a drink, post which Iswar is screening his film, but we may have to leave early as it’s Deepa’s birthday and I promised Gautam, we’d drop in for a bit.

This was a normal agenda on a Monday.

These days my evening entertainment seems a bit easier to navigate, "I can’t come out now, I have already worn my pyjamas.

The worst is when I am on a holiday and the lethargy hits. The first two weeks are fuelled by an energiser bunny-like adrenaline rush, and then without warning, I walk into a blanket of fatigue.

Added to my acute need to stay in bed is the heart-breaking realisation that my time here is finite. My holiday will end soon, and I am wasting precious minutes reclining on a pillow to get my strength back.

At one point, I wondered whether I was sick and did all the prerequisite tests. The doctor pushed up his specialist spectacles and said, “Everything is normal. You are stronger than a horse.”  

Then, casually he dropped the card of a friend of his in front of me. When I saw the word ‘psychiatrist’ on it, I didn’t pick it up and with an equal breeziness, I thanked him and walked out.

I’d like to know how come one never gets tired when one is bored. When there is absolutely nothing to do, my energy levels peak and I bounce off the walls dying to do something, anything.

I sometimes wonder whether this tiredness is an evil conspirator. Is it something, hired by ‘they who destroy a good time’ to come only when we unsuspecting mortals are having fun? Is it a silent force of satan unleashed to suck out the happiness of moments? Could it be a grand game to take over the earth by weakening its inhabitants’ power to enjoy?

Or, is this what they call ‘age’?

'Still Figuring It Out’ a funny, sad, questioning take on adulthood will appear every Saturday on Asianet Newsable. Arathi Menon is the author of Leaving Home With Half a Fridge, a memoir published by Pan Macmillan. She tweets at here. The views expressed here are her own.