The Chicago suburbs have taken a beating these past few months, with repeated rounds of torrential rains, tornadoes, straight-line winds and golf-ball size hail. Our trees have been downed, our houses pummeled and our spirits tanked.
So, let’s add weather fatigue to the long list of things bringing us down.
Life is hard these days. Harder than a year ago. Much harder than two years ago. And infinitely harder than it ought to be.
The result is chronic fatigue. Daily, relentless, grayscale fatigue.
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Information fatigue, misinformation fatigue, cost-of-living fatigue, fear-of-dying fatigue, outrage fatigue, relationship fatigue, dystopia fatigue.
We’re plumb tired.
The dictionary describes fatigue as a weakened condition caused by repeated stress. When an object is hammered with force again and again, it weakens, it folds, it stops resisting. And, in the case of a human, it just wants to go to bed.
We’ve had enough of tornadoes and wildfires and widespread flooding. We’ve had enough of how much harder life has become.
But will the people in power do anything to help us recover or avert new disasters? Of course not, which is why we also have government fatigue.
We can’t help but wonder if our government isn’t responsible for much of our current state of exhaustion. Because what happens in Washington rarely stays in Washington.
Every political decision (war, for example), every trade-off (tariffs, for example), every cancellation (Paris Climate Agreement, for example), every outrageous action (looking at you, East Wing demolition, Reflecting Pool disaster and Qatari gift jet, for example), every disregard for human care (cuts to Medicaid, cuts to FEMA, cuts to the National Weather Service, for example), every tax break for the wealthy (Big Beautiful Bill, for example) and every Epstein revelation (it never gets old) mean stress for the rest of us, even if the powers that be carry on like shock and disgust are to be expected.
So, as we struggle to afford groceries, struggle to get medical care, struggle to fill the tank, struggle to find safe lettuce, struggle to decipher the truth and struggle to feel energized about the future, we can’t help but wonder if we don’t have indefatigable fatigue.
Driving fatigue is very real, thanks to so many Mad Maxes riding bumpers or blowing through red lights or completely ignoring the speed limit. Living on the defensive may keep us alive but it takes a mental toll.
Spam fatigue is a daily contributor to the stress pool. Bogus texts, mystery calls, deceitful emails all aimed at stealing your personal information and your money are relentless. Not only can you not get even, you can’t even find out who’s doing it.
Direct ad fatigue is chilling. You accidentally opened that prompt about comfy walking shoes. Now, everywhere you turn are ads for comfy walking shoes. You see them on your phone, they pop up on your PC, and you know you will continue to see them until you either buy them or accidentally open the ad for winter boots and the marketing campaign pivots.
Road construction fatigue tests our will. Can’t go east. Can’t go west. And you can’t give an ETA because it’s mathematically impossible to calculate the time it takes to navigate around lane changes, ramp closures, horses, sunburnt flag people and concrete drop-offs that could swallow a tank. And then there are those blinking orange lights that make nighttime driving feel like you’ve taken the wrong exit and entered a Stephen King novel.
Gardening fatigue is just sad. Who knew something you once loved could become an exercise in exhaustion? But when you plant, water and coddle those little seedlings to adulthood only to have Mother Nature come through with a scythe, well, the resentment cuts deep.
Food fatigue is disturbing. Remember real food? Remember when the only danger in eating came from calories? Remember when salad was a safe bet, when food was medicine, when supermarkets were trusted entities, not minefields of deadly bacteria, pre-packaged chemicals and products on the verge of recall?
Fakey fatigue is outright scary. Is that gymnast/tornado/shark video the real thing or is it AI? Sadly, you can no longer trust your own eyes. If your mother says she’s your mother, make sure she has a personhood credential.
I could go on and on, but I’m so. stinking. tired. And I certainly don’t want to give you complaint fatigue.
Besides, there are tree branches to bundle, coupons to clip, guacamole to toss out, incredulous news reports to run through Snopes and at least 20 spam texts to block.
All before the next round of storms blow into town.
Donna Vickroy is an award-winning reporter, editor and columnist who worked for the Daily Southtown for 38 years. She can be reached at [email protected].