Someone suggested a bath

You notice it at a red light.

Your teeth are pressed together and you have no idea how long they have been that way.

Since the last call. Since you sat down this morning.

You unclench. By the time the light changes, your jaw has closed again on its own.

Your shoulders are up near your ears, and they have been since the first call of the day.

You mentioned it once, to someone, and you were handed the explanation everyone hands you: you are tired, you are not sleeping enough, you need more rest.

It sounded reasonable. You have been treating it that way ever since.

You took the magnesium and moved the massage twice before you cancelled it.

Somewhere in there, someone suggested a bath. You have twenty free minutes a week. Being handed that as the answer landed as dismissal, and it taught you the exhaustion was yours to fix, on your own time, in private.

You have done everything with your body except listen to it.

So you handled it the way you handle everything else: contain it, work around it, keep it from showing. It looks like taking care of yourself, but is the performance, turned inward. Every fix is one more way of keeping it quiet.

It was never a sleep problem.

Rest is maintenance. It gives you back enough to do the week again.

Every remedy you have been handed points at you. None of them points at the life you are carrying.

Your body was not asking for repair. It has been refusing to keep carrying a life you have outgrown, and it knew before you did.

Your body is not betraying you. It is the one part of you that never agreed to pretend.

Your mind stayed loyal to the performance. Your jaw never did. It has clenched through every meeting where you said you were fine.

That is integrity. It is the one thing you have not been able to manage away.

So the next time your jaw closes at a red light, you do not have to make it stop.

You and your body are on the same side. You have been the whole time.