Surfing a tsunami of tiredness

“HOW are you doing?” “Yeah, good thanks... just tired.”

- SARA ROBINSON

I don’t know about you, but it feels like I'm having a version of this exchange at least once a day. It seems that everyone I know is genuinely and profoundly knackered.

My friends say it. My postman says it. My teenage son says it. Even my partner, who usually has the energy levels of a Duracell-powered soft toy, grudgingly admits his batteries are drained. When did we all become so zonked?

I've been thinking about this a lot lately. Mainly because I’ve been utterly wiped out for months now - not just sleepy-tired, but in a bone-deep “I could sleep for a thousand years and still need a nap” way.

What's maddening is I’m getting plenty of shuteye (at least eight hours a night). I’m not burning the candle at both ends. I don’t have a newborn or a particularly demanding social life. And yet the exhaustion persists.

Last weekend, my partner and I planned a romantic weekend, and I’m ashamed to admit I slept through half of it. I woke up at 6pm on Sunday, confused and mortified after sleeping all day. My pesky body had clearly staged an intervention without even consulting me. Rude.

My friendly GP's response? Welcome to perimenopause, where energy levels freefall and nobody sends a parachute. To be fair, my GP looked pretty knackered herself; hardly surprising when one in three NHS doctors report being so tired that their ability to treat patients is impaired. If the people keeping us alive can barely stay awake, what hope for the rest of us?