Let’s begin with the obvious: if you feel crummy, congratulations. You are fully participating in the human experience. You woke up, your body made noise, your brain immediately replayed something embarrassing from 2009, and your mood clocked in late with coffee breath and an attitude. That’s not a disorder. That’s Tuesday.
But we like to pretend there’s something wrong with us. Something broken. Something that needs fixing with supplements, apps, scented candles, and a podcast hosted by a guy who thinks standing barefoot on grass is a personality. So let’s do what we love to do as a species: make a list. A checklist. Because nothing says “existential clarity” like bullet points.
This is not a self-help list. This is a self-awareness list. And self-awareness, historically, has not made anyone comfortable.
1. You Are Tired, But Not the Kind of Tired That Sleep Fixes
You didn’t sleep well. Or you slept too much. Or you slept fine but woke up already annoyed, which is a special talent. You’re not physically exhausted; you’re existentially jet-lagged. Your body rested. Your mind ran marathons through regret, future dread, and imaginary arguments you absolutely won.
We were not designed to live like this. We evolved to avoid predators, find food, and occasionally stare at fire. Now we lie in bed staring at glowing rectangles that tell us everything is on fire, including the economy, democracy, and your own face thanks to that front-facing camera.
Sleep doesn’t stand a chance.
2. You Eat Like Someone Who Hates Their Future Self
You know what you ate. I don’t need to list it. You ate it fast, distracted, and with the emotional urgency of someone who believes tomorrow is theoretical.
You didn’t eat food. You consumed product. Calories engineered by teams of people whose job is to bypass your body’s natural “maybe stop now” signals. And then you wondered why you felt sluggish, foggy, and vaguely resentful of everyone who looks hydrated.
Your body is not confused. It knows exactly what you did. It’s just disappointed.
3. You Are Dehydrated and Emotionally Overcaffeinated
Water is free in most places. You ignored it. Instead, you drank something that smells like ambition and regret. You mistook stimulation for energy and anxiety for productivity.
Now your hands shake slightly, your thoughts arrive in all caps, and your heart occasionally taps Morse code messages like, “PLEASE CALM DOWN.”
You don’t need another coffee. You need a glass of water and a long, honest moment where you admit you’re running your nervous system like it owes you money.
4. You Haven’t Moved Your Body in a Way That Reminds It You’re Alive
You moved today. Technically. From chair to chair. From bed to car. From car to chair again. Your ancestors crossed continents on foot. You walked to the fridge and considered it cardio.
Your body is a machine designed for motion, stress, recovery, and adaptation. Instead, you’ve parked it like a neglected rental car and are shocked it’s making noises.
Movement isn’t about fitness goals or beach bodies. It’s about reminding your nervous system that you are not, in fact, a houseplant with Wi-Fi.
5. You Are Drowning in Information and Starving for Meaning
You know too much and understand too little. You’ve absorbed headlines, opinions, outrage, and conspiracy theories before breakfast. Your brain has been turned into a crowded airport terminal where every thought is delayed and nobody knows why.
We were not built to process the suffering, stupidity, and drama of eight billion people before noon. That’s not awareness. That’s psychological flooding.
Your mind is not broken. It’s overstimulated, under-informed in the ways that matter, and desperately looking for a reason to care that isn’t being sold to it.
6. You Confuse Busyness with Worth
You feel crummy because you’re exhausted, but you also feel guilty for resting. You’ve internalized the idea that if you’re not producing, optimizing, or improving something, you are failing at existence.
This is a scam. A very successful one.
You are not a device. You are not a brand. You are not an app that needs constant updates. But you live in a culture that treats stillness like a software bug and rest like a character flaw.
Your value does not increase when your calendar fills up. It just gets louder.
7. You Are Carrying Stress Like It’s a Personal Achievement
You’re proud of being stressed. You joke about it. You bond over it. You wear it like a badge that says, “LOOK HOW IMPORTANT MY PROBLEMS ARE.”
Stress used to mean “run or fight.” Now it means “sit perfectly still while your brain imagines worst-case scenarios for things that haven’t happened and probably won’t.”
Your body doesn’t know the difference. It just knows it’s under attack and nobody’s moving.
8. You Haven’t Laughed Enough, and You Know It
Real laughter. The kind that loosens something. The kind that reminds you the whole operation is slightly ridiculous.
Instead, you exhale through your nose at memes while doomscrolling. That’s not laughter. That’s emotional maintenance breathing.
Humor isn’t a luxury. It’s a pressure valve. Without it, everything becomes personal, heavy, and hostile. Including you.
9. You’re Lonely in a Way Wi-Fi Can’t Fix
You are connected to everyone and known by almost no one. You exchange messages, reactions, and emojis, but rarely presence. Actual presence. The kind where someone can see your face when you don’t curate it.
Loneliness doesn’t always mean being alone. Sometimes it means being surrounded by people who only interact with your surface.
Humans are social animals, not social profiles.
10. You Expect Clarity From a World That Thrives on Confusion
You want answers. Direction. Closure. Meanwhile, you live in a system that profits from keeping you slightly off-balance and permanently unsure.
Confusion is good for business. It keeps you clicking, buying, scrolling, and hoping the next thing will finally explain why everything feels off.
It won’t. Because the problem isn’t you. It’s the environment you’re swimming in.
11. You Haven’t Been Bored Enough to Think
Boredom used to be fertile ground. Now it’s treated like a medical emergency. The second there’s silence, you reach for stimulation like a pacifier for adults.
But boredom is where thoughts stretch their legs. Where questions form. Where creativity sneaks in when nobody’s watching.
You feel crummy because your mind hasn’t had room to wander without being hijacked by notifications screaming for attention like needy toddlers with algorithms.
12. You Keep Looking for Fixes Instead of Causes
You want a hack. A shortcut. A routine. Something tidy you can follow without changing the bigger picture.
But most of what makes you feel crummy isn’t a flaw in you. It’s friction between human biology and modern nonsense. Between ancient wiring and artificial urgency.
You’re trying to solve a systems problem with personal guilt.
13. You’re Harder on Yourself Than You’d Ever Be on Anyone Else
You talk to yourself in a tone you wouldn’t use on a stranger, a friend, or a dog who just knocked over a lamp.
You replay mistakes. You inflate flaws. You assume everyone else has it figured out and you missed a meeting.
They didn’t. Nobody did. They’re just hiding it better.
14. You Mistake Feeling “Crummy” for Failure Instead of Feedback
Feeling bad isn’t proof you’re broken. It’s data. It’s your body and mind saying, “Something here is off.”
But instead of listening, you shame yourself for feeling it, then numb it, then wonder why it keeps coming back louder.
Feelings don’t disappear because you ignore them. They just get creative.
15. You Forgot That This Is All Temporary, Including the Bad Parts
You’re going to feel better. Not because you checked every box perfectly, but because feelings move. They always have.
The problem isn’t that you feel crummy. The problem is believing it’s permanent, personal, and preventable if you just tried harder.
It’s not.
Final Check
You feel crummy because you are human in a world that runs at inhuman speeds, sells artificial needs, and treats rest like a suspicious activity. Your nervous system is not malfunctioning. It’s responding exactly as expected.
The checklist isn’t here to fix you. It’s here to remind you that most of what you’re feeling makes perfect sense.
And that alone—knowing you’re not crazy, lazy, or defective—might be enough to take the edge off.
Not everything needs to be optimized.
Some things just need to be understood.