The Lie of Laziness: What My Childhood Didn’t Understand About Fatigue

By Monica Munson

I grew up in a house where rest wasn’t just discouraged—it was practically a sin.

If I was tired, I was told to push through. If I moved slowly, I was punished. There was no space to listen to my body, no curiosity about what I might be feeling, and certainly no compassion for the little girl who struggled to keep up. Being tired wasn’t allowed. Being “lazy” was a moral failure.

And for most of my life, I believed them.

What I Thought Was Normal…

As a child, I didn’t have classmates to compare my experiences to. I was homeschooled, which gave my parents total control over the environment. No routines, no school bus, no structure beyond what they dictated. I was expected to be up early, moving quickly, working constantly—whether it was stacking firewood, scrubbing dishes, or completing assignments.

There were no “How did you sleep?” mornings. No hugs. No warmth. Just a constant push to be productive, obedient, and useful. I didn’t know I was living in survival mode. I just knew that if I didn’t perform, I wasn’t safe.

What Trauma Experts Know Now (But My Parents Didn’t)

As a trauma-informed practitioner, I now know what my inner child didn’t:

Children aren’t lazy—they’re often exhausted, overwhelmed, or unsupported.

Rest isn’t a reward. It’s a biological need.

A body in constant fight-or-flight will struggle with routines and wakefulness.

Productivity is not proof of worth.

Looking back, I can now say: my fatigue wasn’t defiance. It wasn’t laziness. It was a nervous system screaming for help in a house that never listened.

How This Connects to Autism, Trauma, and Chronic Illness

Today, I live with suspected autism, hEDS, and POTS—conditions that impact energy, sensory processing, and nervous system regulation. These diagnoses didn’t “show up” in adulthood. They were always there. But instead of support, I was shamed.

If I bristled at affection or struggled to wake up, it wasn’t because I was being difficult. It was because I was neurodivergent. If I needed rest after moving firewood, it wasn’t because I was lazy. It was because my body couldn’t handle it.

And yet, none of that was seen.

What I Know Now

I’ve spent years unlearning the lie that I have to earn rest.

That I’m only lovable when I’m useful.

That if I slow down, I’ve failed.

And if you’ve been told the same lie? I want you to know it is a lie.

Your body deserves compassion. Your needs aren’t inconvenient. You are not lazy—you’re likely carrying more than anyone ever acknowledged.

A Gentle Invitation

If this resonated with you, you’re not alone.

I hold space for women who are healing from the exact kind of childhood I just described. If you’re navigating trauma, chronic exhaustion, or invisible pain—I’d love to support your healing in a space that finally feels safe.

📲 Text me at 1-269-767-8920 to explore Mind-Body Trauma Healing sessions or just talk through what you’re carrying. You don’t have to do it alone anymore.