Low energy in summer, when everyone else seems to have plenty

You're awake at ten past silly o'clock because the light's already coming round the edge of the curtains. You lie there for a while not really asleep and not really awake. By three in the afternoon you're way past done. And the evening still has four hours of daylight left in it, waiting, like a guest who won't take the hint.

Nobody mentions the sheer physical toll of summer. It’s hard work for a body. If yours has been struggling lately, that’s not a sign you're doing the season wrong.

Heat makes thinking harder

Warmth costs you. Your body spends energy keeping itself steady, and that energy comes out of the same pot as concentrating, deciding, and remembering what you went upstairs for.

So the brain fog that descends on a hot afternoon isn't a lapse. There’s less in the pot, because everything else got there first.

The kick is that summer doesn't announce this. It presents itself as the easy season, so when your thinking goes thick and slow you assume the problem's you rather than the temperature.

Sleep goes strange in the light

Darkness is a necessity. It's the signal your body uses to work out when to wind down, and during summer that signal turns up much later, like it's got somewhere better to be.

So it’s no wonder you go to bed still slightly wired - it doesn't feel like bedtime yet. And you wake early anyway, and what sleep you did get was shallow, because it was way too warm to settle properly.

And then you spend the day running on that. On a day that expects you at your best. Because look, it's lovely out.

Everything is louder, brighter, more

Windows are open, so the traffic comes in. Everyone seems to be outside, so there's noise where there wasn't. Light is harsh, fabric sticks, there's sun cream on your hands and sand in things that have never been near a beach. And to cap it all, there’s a fan making a sound you will never unhear.

If you're someone who feels this stuff, the running total gets high quite fast. Sensory tiredness is a real tiredness. It isn't fussiness, and it doesn't respond to being told it shouldn't matter. By late afternoon you can find yourself wanting a dark quiet room more than you want anything else. Which is more than reasonable.

More hours, less to put in them

The odd cruelty of a long day is that the extra hours don’t come with extra energy. Eight in the evening still looks like the middle of the afternoon, so it feels like there should be something left in you to match it.

The sun being up doesn’t oblige you to be too.

None of this is you going wrong

Put it all together — the heat, broken sleep, sensory load, a day that runs on and on — and your low energy stops looking like a personal shortcoming. Running quieter isn't a malfunction. It's what happens when a system that's already working hard decides to stop offering extras.

Ticking over is a real thing to be doing

On the days when there isn't much there, the useful question isn't how to get more. It's what is enough for today.

Ticking over counts. Feeding yourself something, moving through the day, keeping essential bits turning — that's a version of the day, it’s not a failed attempt at a better one. There's no minimum you have to hit before the day counts.

Recovery isn't what happens once the real day finishes. On a summer like this it's part of the day, sitting alongside everything else rather than queued behind it.

Small summers still count

There's a version of summer that's quite plain. Not much in the diary. Shade rather than sun. Cold water and an early night and the good windows open. Nothing anyone would photograph.

That's still summer. A season lived quietly is a season lived.

Some of it will stay hard. The heat won't necessarily let up, the light will keep waking you, and there'll be afternoons when you've got nothing and the day is still going. That part might not resolve this year. But you can stop adding the second layer to it — the bit where you're tired and wondering what's wrong with you for being tired.

You’re a body in a hot bright season, doing what bodies do.

If the lighter months have been feeling heavier than expected, our guide "When The Lighter Months Feel Heavy" was written for exactly this — including a whole section on meeting your body gently through the season.

Be gentle. Stay wobbly. You’re doing just fine.

A gentle note: The Tender Wobble Guide offers encouragement and reflection only. Nothing here is intended as medical, psychological, or professional advice, and it is not a substitute for professional support. If you are struggling, please reach out to a qualified professional or helpline. You don't have to wobble alone.