It started with a feeling I couldn’t explain. I would wake up every morning already tired, as if I hadn’t slept at all. My room looked the same, my schedule hadn’t changed, yet something felt off. The air seemed heavier, my thoughts slower, and every small task felt like lifting a weight I couldn’t see.
One evening, I sat on my bed and just looked around. The pile of clothes in the corner I kept meaning to fold, the dim light that barely reached my desk, the silence that somehow felt too loud—everything around me seemed to echo my exhaustion. That’s when it hit me: my space wasn’t just where I lived; it was what I was feeling.
We often think energy only comes from people, food, or motivation, but the truth is, our environment feeds us, too. Every color, sound, and object in a room carries an emotional charge. The clutter I ignored wasn’t just a mess; it was a collection of unfinished thoughts. The walls that hadn’t seen sunlight in days reflected my own lack of energy. And the constant noise from outside made my mind restless even when my body tried to rest.
Slowly, I started changing things, not because I suddenly had energy, but because I wanted to invite it back. I opened the windows and let in the morning air. I moved my bed closer to the light, bought a plant I named Hope, and started playing calm music as I cleaned. It was like teaching my space how to breathe again, and in doing so, I started breathing too.
Within days, I noticed subtle shifts. My mood felt lighter, my thoughts clearer. It wasn’t magic; it was alignment. The energy I gave my space began to return to me. I realized that the environment we live in is a mirror; if it’s cluttered, we carry confusion; if it’s lifeless, we feel drained; but when it’s alive and peaceful, so are we.
So, if you ever feel exhausted for no clear reason, take a moment to really see your surroundings. Listen to what your space might be trying to tell you. Maybe it’s not just tiredness, maybe it’s your energy begging for room to flow again.
By Gladys kahuha
