Days of rain, and the body slows down — that isn't laziness

Day four of rain. He opens his eyes and it's already nine; outside the glass, the same grey as yesterday and the day before. He sits at the desk and his hands don't want to type, his head is heavy — and the first thing he says to himself isn't "I'm tired" but "why am I so lazy".

Four days without sun, waking late, everything slower than it should be. The slowness he can carry. What he can't carry is the verdict he passes on himself every morning: lazy, useless, falling behind. Until he remembers last year's rainy season was exactly the same — same late mornings, same crawl — and then the rain stopped and everything came back on its own, without him "fixing" anything. He turns on every light in the room and keeps working.

Day five, a full night's sleep and still tired. Every morning he feels like a failure before he has done a single thing. He messages a friend, just to hear another voice — and the friend writes back: I've been wrecked all week too. So it isn't him. It's the sky. That afternoon the rain pauses and he goes outside for fifteen minutes, doing nothing, just to get some light on his face.

Evening, his mother calls. Her first words: why does your voice sound so tired? He says he's fine — afraid she'll think her son in the city has gone soft. Then she tells him that with this weather she's been dragging too, doesn't feel like doing anything either. The word "lazy" only ever existed in his head; she had never once thought it. He tells her how the week has really been, and something lifts.

The rain will stop in a few days. Drop the blame and just keep going.

No one can stop the rain. But these past few rainy days — have you been adding something to yourself that weighs more than the weather?