When the Soul Feels Tired

Been sitting with my heart feeling heavy, not knowing where to begin.

Lately, my soul feels tired. Like it has completed a circle… or maybe it hasn’t. Maybe that’s what confuses me the most.

I stand on this strange path where I know God won’t let me fall, yet I still try to control which direction to take, even when deep down I know the path was already chosen for me long ago.

It’s like knowing there’s a safety net waiting to catch you, yet still being terrified to fall.

That’s what life feels like right now.

Empty. Lonely.

I used to love my own company. Silence felt beautiful to me. Solitude felt sacred. And now, suddenly, I’m afraid to sit alone with myself, as if I might do something.

What exactly? I don’t know.

I have so much love inside me, yet lately I don’t know what to do with it. I used to sleep excited for the next morning, curious about how beautiful life could become. And now here I am, exhausted enough to think about rest in its final form.

When did that happen?

When did the spark leave?

Or did she never leave at all?

Was I just performing happiness all these years? Was I projecting strength while silently falling apart? Which version of me is real, the cheerful girl full of hope and adventure, or this girl who feels done with life and only wonders how it all ends?

Why does the future scare me so much now?

Why does life suddenly feel like theory instead of experience?

And somewhere in between all of this, there is a truth I have been chasing.

Or maybe a truth that has been chasing me.

I gave up on life in a way I never knew I was capable of. I did things I never thought I would, all in a desperate need to understand, to know, to feel certain about something that refuses to become clear.

I stand between two stories, not knowing which one to believe.

And maybe the hardest part is this, I may never know.

That unanswered space… it doesn’t stay silent. It echoes. It grows. It becomes a void that sits in my chest and drops into my stomach every time I try to rest, close my eyes.

The thoughts don’t leave me.

They follow me into the night, into my breath, into the quiet moments that used to feel like home.

And yet, even in all this confusion, one thing inside me refuses to die, my faith.

Dear God, I love you.

I trust you.

And after whispering that to myself every single day for months, I’m finally saying it out loud:

I NEED YOU.

I need your grace. I need your strength. I need you to intervene, to show me what I cannot see, to hold me where I feel like I’m slipping.

Because I know this is not who I truly am.

I am still that happy, confident, hopeful girl somewhere underneath all this fear.

Take this anxiety away.

Make this shivering stop.

Give me the strength to fight whatever challenges come my way. Give me the will to live again, not just survive, but truly experience this beautiful life you gave me.

Bring my Eika back.

The girl who is content in her own presence.
The girl who reads quietly, helps people feel beautiful about themselves, and cannot be shaken by who stays or who leaves because she knows Shiva stands beside her.

The girl who focuses on growth instead of grieving what’s gone.
Who looks forward to what’s coming next.
Who cries out of gratitude instead of pain.
Who surrenders fully and trusts life enough to let it change her.

She isn’t afraid of change.
She isn’t afraid of love.
She loves wholeheartedly without asking what comes back, because she already feels held by something greater.

She embodies the Shakti within her.

And maybe that’s why Shiva called me when he did.

The last few months had broken me in ways I didn’t know how to explain. I had been trying to go to Kedarnath Temple for five years, but somehow it never happened. Everyone said the same thing:

“You can only go when Shiva calls you.”

And before I left, I remember whispering something quietly, almost like a bargain, almost like a prayer:

If I am meant to stay on the path I’m walking, give me a sign.

And then… he called me.

I thought once I reached Kedarnath, I would return with every answer I had been searching for.

But that wasn’t what happened.

Instead, I returned with pieces of myself.

Pieces I thought I had lost forever.

Somewhere between the mountains, the silence, the prayers, the cold air, and the exhaustion of the climb… something inside me softened. Something inside me survived.

I saw glimpses. I felt things I cannot fully explain. I gathered pieces of myself I thought I had lost.

But when I came back… the questions didn’t leave.

If anything, they grew louder.

The pain deepened.

The nights became heavier.

Sleep became distant.

And that confused me even more, because how could a place so divine awaken both healing and ache at the same time?

He didn’t give me a perfect life after that trip.
He didn’t magically erase the fear.

But he made me pick up my broken pieces and begin putting myself back together again.

And I know it was him.

I know it.

Still, the longing hasn’t left me.

I need to see him again.

Maybe because some experiences cannot be explained, only felt. And no matter how much I try, I still cannot fully put Kedarnath into words. Maybe places touched by God are never meant to be explained completely.

Maybe they are meant to stay inside you.

Maybe because some answers are not meant to arrive all at once.

Maybe because faith is not built in clarity, but in staying, even when clarity doesn’t come.

All I know is this:

I am scared right now.

But my fear is not the absence of faith.

It is simply a tired heart asking God for a hug.

And with folded hands, ego set aside, and whatever remains of me laid bare before him, I pray:

Help me sit with what I cannot understand.
Help me release what I cannot control.
Help me trust what I cannot see.

Help your part become one with you.

Hold my hand tightly through this phase.
Remind me that I am not alone.
Remind me that I was never alone.

Make my faith stronger than my fear.

Let me become myself again.

I love you, God.

And despite everything… I still trust you.

-eika ©