Out of Sync
The class moved fast, relentless. Breah’s body lagged, always behind, craving transitions. Gap created irritability, fog. By cool-down: complete exhaustion.
What She Held While Her Hands Moved
Her hands moved through tasks. Her mind juggled dozens more. At register, holding breath, she named it: cognitive load fatigue.
The Sunday List
Breah color-codes her productivity lists while her body screams warnings—restless hands, shallow breathing, hollow stomach. She notices the signals, then keeps writing.
When the Clock Lied
Over an hour remained yet her chest tightened. She rushed anyway, skipped conditioner. Ready early, urgency stayed—unmatched by reality.
The Signal She had Been Overriding
Her shoulders touched her ears. Mouth dry, water bottle distant. She stood at the window. Something eased—enough space to notice the floor beneath.
The Conversation Breah Had With Her Own Exhaustion
She typed the invisible list—everyone’s moods, needs, details. Seeing this silent agreement to carry what wasn’t hers created space where pressure lived.
The Pace She Learned
She arrived early, foot bouncing before noticing. Still had time yet felt ready. The forward pull didn’t belong here. Her breath lengthened without instruction