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Sometimes I really believe God is going to help me get everything done. I really do. But I also understand that faith without work means absolutely nothing. I can pray all day long, sit there and hope things magically fall into place, but if I don’t put in the work, none of this shit matters. None of it.

And honestly?

I hate that this is my life now.

My body hurts. My brain hurts. My chest feels heavy all the time. I’m exhausted mentally, spiritually, physically. Fuck this shit for real. Fuck this motherfucking shit.

But at the same time, I still wake up every day trying.

That’s the weird thing about me.

Even when I’m tired. Even when I’m angry. Even when I feel defeated. Even when I feel like nobody takes me seriously.

I still try.

Right now I’m trying to plan out study sessions. Trying to organize schedules. Trying to invite people. Trying to build structure around chaos because if I don’t build structure, everything collapses.

And honestly, sometimes I sit there staring at the screen wondering if any of this is even worth it.

But then another part of me says: “It’s worth a try.”

Because that’s all life really is. A series of attempts. A series of experiments. A series of moments where you either try or slowly disappear.

And I refuse to disappear.

I love motherfuckers. I really do. I love people deeply. I care too deeply. I overthink too deeply. I want connection. I want community. I want love. I want people around me that actually understand me.

But at the same time…I hate myself for doing too much.

That’s the contradiction.

I overload myself because I’m terrified of becoming nothing. I overload myself because I’m scared that if I stop moving, I’ll realize how exhausted I actually am. I overload myself because somewhere deep down I think productivity equals worth.

And maybe that’s the biggest problem of all.

Last year really fucked me up mentally.

I still think about it constantly.

Why was I so scared to make moves? Why was I frozen? Why did I hesitate so much? Why did fear control so many of my decisions?

Because now? Now the weight is real.

Now the consequences are real.

People don’t understand how brutal the engineering world can feel sometimes. Especially when you’re trying to survive academically while also surviving mentally. And honestly, as a Black man in engineering, sometimes it feels like you don’t get the luxury of falling apart publicly.

People act like everybody gets equal room to recover. That’s bullshit.

Sometimes it feels like if you slow down for even one second, people start questioning your intelligence, your discipline, your capability, your future.

Taking breaks sounds healthy in theory until you realize industries punish gaps. Academia punishes gaps. Employers punish gaps.

You step away for a second and suddenly people start looking at you differently.

That’s what happened to me.

I took a break. And that break fucked me up.

Instead of building momentum, I was out looking for jobs, trying to survive, trying to figure life out financially, trying to stay afloat mentally while simultaneously feeling guilty for not progressing fast enough.

And now I’m sitting here trying to rebuild momentum while time keeps moving whether I’m ready or not.

That’s the scariest part about adulthood: time does not care how overwhelmed you are.

The FE exam is getting closer. Comprehensive exams are getting closer. Research responsibilities are getting heavier. Life keeps speeding up.

And honestly? I don’t feel ready.

But maybe nobody ever feels ready.

Maybe everybody is just pretending they know what they’re doing while quietly panicking inside.

I just wish people took me seriously sometimes.

Not even in a fame way. Not even in an ego way.

I just wish people understood how hard I’m trying.

But maybe the bigger lesson is this:

I need to take my own life seriously first.

That’s probably the real issue.

Because sometimes I think I spend too much time wanting validation from other people instead of validating myself.

And the truth is…if I don’t believe my future matters, nobody else will either.

That realization hurts.

A lot.

And while all this pressure is building, life still keeps happening around me.

We’re going on vacation soon. And even something like that stresses me out now because my body is so exhausted that rest doesn’t even feel simple anymore.

I don’t want to sit awake all night unable to sleep. I don’t want to hear snoring and feel trapped inside my own exhaustion. I don’t want to spend another night mentally wired while physically tired.

That’s torture.

People underestimate sleep deprivation until they actually experience it long-term.

Sleep deprivation changes who you are.

It changes your emotions. Your focus. Your patience. Your memory. Your anxiety levels. Your discipline. Your ability to think clearly.

Everything changes.

And my therapist — Dr. Rob — kept telling me to rest.

Over and over again.

At first I didn’t really understand it because in my head, grinding harder meant succeeding harder.

That’s the mentality I built my entire life around.

Wake up early. Study harder. Outwork everybody. Sacrifice sleep. Sacrifice comfort. Sacrifice peace.

I thought that was discipline.

But eventually my body hit a wall.

I remember setting these insane schedules for myself after the semester ended.

Wake up at 6 a.m. Study all day. Work twelve-hour schedules. Repeat every single day.

No recovery. No balance. No breathing room.

Just obsession.

And for a moment I thought that made me strong.

But honestly? It was destroying me.

I was mentally fried. Physically exhausted. Emotionally unstable.

My body was screaming for rest while my brain kept yelling: “Keep going. Keep going. Keep going.”

That’s dangerous.

And that’s when I realized something: sometimes discipline is knowing when to stop.

That’s harder than grinding sometimes.

So I started rebuilding my routine differently.

First thing: the phone has to go.

Completely.

Not beside me. Not charging next to my bed. Not in my hands while I’m “trying to sleep.”

No.

That phone activates my brain too much. One video becomes ten videos. One thought becomes ten thoughts. One notification becomes thirty minutes of scrolling.

So now the phone stays downstairs.

Far away from me.

And honestly? That small change helped more than people realize.

Second thing: water.

People laugh at how simple that sounds, but dehydration absolutely destroys sleep quality.

I started realizing that every time I woke up in the middle of the night feeling terrible, my body was dry as hell.

No water. No recovery. No comfort.

Now I keep water nearby because little things matter when your body is already struggling.

And another thing that helps me a lot: journaling.

Writing things down slows my mind down.

Because my brain moves too fast sometimes. Thoughts stacking on top of thoughts. Pressure stacking on top of pressure. Fear stacking on top of fear.

Writing organizes the chaos.

And journaling isn’t just planning your day.

It’s confronting yourself.

It’s asking: “What am I actually afraid of?”

“What am I running from?”

“What do I really want?”

“What kind of man am I becoming?”

That’s deeper than productivity.

That’s survival.

And yeah, sometimes I take melatonin. Sometimes medication. Sometimes whatever helps me sleep.

People judge that stuff sometimes. I don’t care anymore.

Sleep matters.

Your brain matters.

Recovery matters.

You cannot destroy your nervous system every day and expect greatness long-term.

That’s not strength. That’s self-destruction disguised as ambition.

Another thing I learned the hard way: coffee is powerful as hell.

And dangerous.

I love coffee. I really do.

Coffee makes me feel alive. Focused. Functional.

But coffee can absolutely destroy your sleep if you misuse it.

I swear espresso stays in my body for like twelve hours.

Drink it too late? You’re done.

Now everybody else asleep while your brain still running a marathon at midnight.

That happened to me recently.

Everybody around me tired and relaxed while my body still wired and restless like I’m preparing for war.

And then the cycle starts:

No sleep. Bad recovery. Poor focus. More anxiety. More caffeine. Even worse sleep.

That cycle will destroy you slowly if you don’t catch it early.

And honestly? That’s what I’m trying to do right now.

Catch myself before I completely burn out.

Because the pressure is real.

FE exam. Comprehensive exams. Research. Future career. Trying to become successful. Trying to become disciplined. Trying to stay mentally healthy. Trying to become somebody.

It’s a lot.

And maybe success isn’t just about grinding harder than everybody else.

Maybe success is also learning how to survive the grind without losing your mind.

That’s where I’m at now.

Trying to work hard. Trying to rest harder. Trying to rebuild myself mentally. Trying to become disciplined without becoming self-destructive. Trying to believe God has a plan for me even when I’m terrified.

Because despite everything…despite the stress…despite the exhaustion…despite the fear…

I still believe my life can become something meaningful.

I have to believe that.

Otherwise all this suffering means nothing.