Ronke is the kind of woman you’ll find quietly holding everything together while everything feels like it’s falling apart. She’s spiritually grounded, always has a kind word, and never forgets to check in on others. At church, she volunteers for just about everything. At home, she wakes up before everyone else and is often the last to sleep.
Her children are fed, clean, and loved. Her husband depends on her strength. Her community sees her as dependable. But beneath that calm, dependable surface… Ronke is tired. Deeply tired.
Not just “I need a nap” tired, but “I don’t even know who I am anymore” tired.
She’s emotionally drained. Spiritually worn. Mentally stretched so thin she barely remembers what it’s like to feel truly rested. She puts everyone first, like she’s always done, but lately, she’s been asking herself a quiet question at the back of her mind:
“When do I get to breathe?”
Ronke lives in a nice city named Osogbo, in the southwestern part of Nigeria. Like many Nigerian women, she carries more than her fair share of responsibilities. Between taking care of her three children, trying to supplement the family’s income by selling small items in the local market, managing house chores, supporting her husband’s hustle, and remaining an active church member, she’s constantly on the move.
She’s grateful, loves her family to a fault. But that doesn’t make the weight any lighter.
She doesn’t talk much about how overwhelmed she is. In fact, most people wouldn’t know. She’s become good at smiling through the storm, quoting scripture to herself, and reminding herself that “God gives strength to the weary.”
But even faith, when not paired with care, can leave a person drained.
Her body has started speaking the words she won’t say. Headaches. Sleepless nights. Forgetfulness. A heaviness she can’t explain. Sometimes, she finds herself snapping at her kids or withdrawing from her husband. She prays more, but the fog won’t lift.
What Ronke is experiencing isn’t laziness or weakness. It’s emotional and spiritual burnout. It’s what happens when you give and give and give… and forget that you too need to be poured into.
It may even be tipping into depression. That constant weight. The silent sadness. The sense that life is moving, but joy is far behind.
She may also be dealing with compassion fatigue, a deep emotional exhaustion that happens when you’re always the one caring for others. It’s common in caregivers, especially women, who feel responsible for everyone’s happiness except their own.
First, Ronke needs to know this: She’s not alone. Many women, especially Nigerian women, are silently carrying similar loads, afraid to admit they’re tired for fear of seeming ungrateful, weak, or “unspiritual.” But exhaustion does not make her any less strong. Needing rest does not make her any less faithful.
She deserves care too.
Here are some gentle steps Ronke (and women like her) can take:
Naming what she feels is the first act of healing. Whether it’s sadness, resentment, tiredness, or confusion, putting words to it gives her power over it.
Ronke can begin to create space for herself by saying “no” more often, even to good things. She doesn’t need to take every church role. She doesn’t have to do everything alone at home.
Rest isn’t laziness. It’s necessary. A 20-minute nap, a walk alone, a full night’s sleep, or just five minutes of silence can help reset her nervous system and clear her thoughts.
This is so important. Support can come through a trusted friend, but when the weight is deep, she may need professional help.
That’s where JMore Counseling and Consulting comes in.
If you see a lot of yourself in Ronke and you’re reading this, or if you know someone like her, it’s okay to admit that you’re tired. It’s okay to ask for help.
At JMore Counseling and Consulting, we understand what you’re carrying. We see the love behind your labor, the faith behind your fatigue, and the heart behind your silence. And we want to help you breathe again.
Counseling is not just for people who are “broken.” It’s for people who are ready to heal, people who are ready to grow, and people who deserve peace. Like you.
If you’re always the one holding it all together, this is your reminder: You don’t have to fall apart before you ask for support.
You can love God and still need rest.
You can be strong and still feel weak.
You can be grateful and still feel overwhelmed.
Let someone pour into you for a change.
Let healing begin with one step: reaching out!
