Post-Exertional Malaise, Capitalism, and the Power of Sitting Down
I thought I could push through. After a few “good” days, I told myself I could ease back into work—but my body had other plans. Post-exertional malaise (PEM) reminded me that rest isn’t a choice for me right now.
Sitting down has been humbling, uncomfortable, and isolating. Capitalism doesn’t care that I can’t work—it just cares about whether I can pay the bills.
But community? Community cares. And right now, I need your help to navigate this season of rest.
In this blog, I reflect on how PEM has reshaped my relationship with work, the fight to rest in a system that doesn’t allow for it, and how you can support me—whether through a kind message, paying a utility bill, or sharing this post.
I really thought I could push through.
After a few “good” days, I convinced myself that maybe, just maybe, I could go back to work like before. I even created some practice groups. I told myself I could take it slow, ease back into things, and manage the balance between rest and productivity.
But my body had other plans.
It’s not happening.
Post-exertional malaise (PEM) has reminded me—again—that pushing through isn’t an option. Instead of getting back to work, I’ve had to sit down. And not in the empowering, “I’m choosing to prioritize myself” kind of way, but in the “my body is shutting down, and I literally have no other choice” kind of way.
What It Feels Like to Sit Down When the World Keeps Moving
Sitting down is humbling. It’s uncomfortable. And honestly, it’s isolating.
Because while I’m here, trying to conserve what little energy I have, the rest of the world keeps moving. The emails don’t stop. The bills don’t stop. Capitalism certainly doesn’t stop.
And sitting down—choosing rest when every system around me demands productivity—makes me feel like I’m falling behind.
Post-Exertional Malaise Isn’t Just Fatigue
PEM is more than just exhaustion. It’s the full-body rebellion that comes after trying to do too much, even when “too much” is something as simple as making breakfast or taking a short phone call.
For me, “too much” might be sitting at my computer for an hour, or thinking, Maybe today I can write that email or hop on that call.
But PEM doesn’t negotiate.
Instead, it sends me straight back to bed with brain fog, crushing fatigue, and a body that feels like it’s been weighed down with bricks.
Capitalism Doesn’t Care About My Rest
I wish I could say that choosing to sit down feels empowering. Sometimes it does. But mostly, it feels like a fight against the relentless grind of capitalism.
Capitalism doesn’t care that I can’t work right now.
It doesn’t care that my body needs rest to function.
It doesn’t care that pushing through will only make me sicker.
What it does care about is whether I can pay rent this month.
But Community Does Care
Here’s the reality: even though I’m choosing to honor what my body needs, the world doesn’t pause for me. Bills are still due. Rent still needs to be paid. And managing the basics of life feels overwhelming when I can’t work.
Sitting Down Is Resistance
Slowing down has taught me that sitting down isn’t failure—it’s survival. It’s acknowledging that my worth isn’t tied to what I produce, and that rest is an act of resistance against systems that demand we work ourselves into the ground.
And while capitalism might not care about my rest, I know that community does.
How You Can Walk Alongside Me
If you’re wondering how you can support me during this time, here are a few ways to walk alongside me in this next chapter:
💸 Donations or Financial Support – Managing life while recovering from illness is no small task. If you’re able to give, your support will help me ease back into work without feeling overwhelmed by expenses. No amount is too small—it all makes a difference. Support HERE
🏠 Contribute to My Rent – If you’d like, I can connect you with my landholder to pay part (or all) of my rent directly. Email me at myisha@myishat.com for details. Or contribute to my home fund here: https://givebutter.com/CFWLTj
📝 Spread the Word – If you know someone who might want to support or share a resource, passing this along would mean the world to me.
Thank you for walking alongside me, for holding space, and for reminding me that I’m not in this alone. Together, we’re rewriting the narrative—one where rest is valued, care is shared, and no one has to navigate the hard seasons by themselves.