Living with chronic illness, burnout, or persistent fatigue can feel like a cycle of rising and falling, healing and hurting, hope and despair. Over time, I’ve come to see these cycles not as personal failures but as part of a deeper rhythm — a rhythm of transformation.

Inspired by the ancient symbol of the Phoenix, I explore finding moments of courage, compassion, and renewal even in the midst of suffering. My hope is that this reflection will bring encouragement to anyone who feels worn down, misunderstood, or exhausted by their own invisible battles.

May you find comfort here, and may your own Phoenix rise gently.

Dear Phoenix,

Some may mistake you for an antagonist simply because you are a fighter — but you are gentle of heart. Your bold words might be misunderstood as insolence because you speak truth openly, but the truth is that you are kind too. Stand firm in who you are, even when your colours feel like they’re fading; even when you are misunderstood or feel alone.

Remember that first time, in the Arabian wilderness, when you burned on the funeral pyre and rose again from the smouldering embers. As you faced your struggles you lived afresh with new passion, restored after trauma, sickness and suffering. You rose with fresh vision and deeper wisdom.

Look at yourself with compassion now, as you see the tones of your fading colours and feel the heat of the fire once more. This is not your final death — rather it is the passing of who you once were and the gentle forming of who you are becoming. You can do this. Even if you crash and burn, you remain a uniquely remarkable soul. Rest in that knowledge. Rest in the cycle. The crash and burn, the rise from the ashes and the renewal. You will rise again — more refined than before.

The pain and anguish you face are your fire. You are resilient even when you feel defeated or frustrated. Your endurance rests in the faith you carry within you. In resting and returning, you are restored as you slowly and gently embrace Compassion. Manage the crash by allowing the cycle to flow. Forgive yourself. You do not deserve the big stick — it never served you and never will. Lay down the blaming and shaming. Rest instead in self-compassion and forgiveness.

There is a phoenix in each of us that dies a little death each night when we finally surrender to sleep, and rises again with the sun, ready for whatever the new day brings. There is a phoenix in those who suffer from all kinds of afflictions: migraines and burnout; chronic fatigue and cancer; recurring symptoms of autoimmune conditions and old trauma; anxiety and depression that sink us into shame and despair. We each face the shadows of our challenges in order to find the gold, the joy, and the small sparks of passion that keep us going.

Letting go is its own kind of forgiveness — forgiveness for the undone tasks, the energy-less afternoons, the sleepless nights. Forgiveness for abandoned projects and the disappointment of dreams not lived out. Forgiveness for the fear of being a burden, or the shame of being sick yet again. Forgiveness for not living up to your own expectations, or the imagined expectations of others.

Letting go means accepting what is for now — accepting the fire. No one can dictate when the Phoenix will rise or how it will rise. In time, tiny pieces of ash will lift into the heatwaves of your experience, and slowly, a new shape will form. A renewed Phoenix — you — ready again for moments of joy, for glimmers of passion, for life lived in all its mystery.

Rise gently. Rise slowly. Rise in your own time.

Morag Noffke