Responsibility Fatigue

Lately I've been trying to name something I've been feeling.

It's not quite burnout. I don't feel cynical. I don't feel detached. I'm still motivated. I still care.

It's not just decision fatigue either, although that's part of it. I make a lot of decisions. That drains a specific kind of energy.

What I'm feeling is closer to carrying weight.

Not metaphorically in a poetic way — physically. My shoulders feel tight. My posture changes. There's a heaviness to the day before it even really starts. The responsibilities don't just sit in my head. They sit in my body.

Decision fatigue is about depleted cognitive energy.

Responsibility fatigue — at least the way I'm experiencing it — is about sustained load. Ongoing ownership. The sense that even when the decisions are made, the weight remains. Tasks still need to be done. Outcomes still rest somewhere. And often, that somewhere feels like me.

I don't have this figured out. I'm writing this mostly as a conversation with myself. But I've been thinking about how physical weight is managed — and whether any of that translates.

Not as a framework. Just as a way of thinking through what I want to try.

Shift the Weight

If something is heavy, sometimes you don't drop it — you just move it.

I've been sitting with a question: what do I currently carry that only I can carry? Not what I currently do — what only I can do. The gap between those two lists is probably bigger than I think.

But the harder truth is that some of what I carry isn't about holding on too tightly. It's that there isn't always someone to hand it to. Not yet. That's a different kind of weight — not a letting-go problem, but a structural one.

And most of it doesn't arrive on my schedule. Tasks surface when they surface. Decisions come due when they come due. There's some truth to the idea that I grab things too quickly — but mostly, the weight just lands, and the timing isn't mine to choose.

I don't need to unload everything. But I want to get clearer about which weight is structural and which is habit.

Rest

In strength training, muscles grow on rest days, not lifting days.

I'm not great at rest. I'm good at stopping when I'm forced to. That's collapse, not recovery. They feel different in my body.

What I want is something more intentional. A short block with no input — no phone, no podcasts, no catching up. Just space. An evening where I stop working even though things aren't finished. And when I sleep poorly, actually adjusting expectations for the day instead of pretending I didn't.

I keep telling myself recovery isn't indulgence. I'm still learning to believe that.

Use Support

No one deadlifts their max alone without risk.

I don't always ask for help because the friction of explaining feels heavier than just doing it. I know that's short-sighted. The weight doesn't get lighter by keeping it invisible.

I want to get better at saying "this feels heavy right now" before I'm overwhelmed — not as a last resort. And I think there's something to making responsibility visible. Not tracked in my head, but seen. A list, a board, a shared understanding. When weight is visible, it can be shared. When it's hidden, it just accumulates.

Adjust Technique

Sometimes something feels heavy because you're lifting it poorly.

I suspect some of what I'm feeling isn't even volume — it's friction. A meeting that runs longer than it needs to. A report no one reads but everyone expects. A responsibility no one owns clearly, so it floats, and I catch it.

If I could reduce friction in just a few places, I think the load would feel different even if it stayed the same size. Ambiguity weighs more than clarity. I'm trying to remember that.

Pace the Load

Even strong people can't sprint with weight forever.

I'm still learning the difference between intensity and sustainability. I can do heavy days. I've done them for years. But I'm starting to notice that without lighter days in between, the heavy ones don't feel heavy — they feel normal. And that's when the fatigue becomes invisible.

I want to be more intentional about rhythm. Lighter days after heavy ones — not accidentally, but on purpose. Defining "done enough" instead of optimizing everything. Noticing when the weight feels manageable versus when it's just familiar.

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I don't know if "responsibility fatigue" is the right term. It just fits how it feels in my body.

I'm not trying to escape responsibility. I care about the things I carry.

I just don't want to carry them in a way that slowly bends me.

Maybe it starts with a breath. The weight is still there. But for a second, my shoulders drop.