This is something I hear regularly, from clients and friends alike. And honestly? I don’t believe lazy is actually a thing.
Do I think we sometimes need more rest than other times? Absolutely.
Do I think some people do less than others? Of course.
Do I think some people genuinely feel like they’re not doing enough? Definitely.
But none of that makes someone lazy. Let me explain.
We all run on several different batteries. Your emotional battery is separate from your physical one, which is different again from your social battery. When one of them runs low, certain things become genuinely difficult, even impossible, while other things feel completely fine.
If something feels a little scary, or you’re not quite sure how to approach it, it draws far more from your emotional battery than something familiar and comfortable. Add in some self doubt or a recent knock to your confidence, and that battery can hit critical levels fast. It’s not that you don’t want to do the thing. It’s that you literally don’t have the energy for it right now.
And those battery levels aren’t fixed. They shift from day to day, hour to hour, sometimes minute to minute. What drains me completely might actually energise someone else. We’re all different, and that matters.
There’s also something deeper at play. We are genetically wired to conserve energy. Even a hundred years ago, not burning more energy than you were taking in could be a matter of survival. So we evolved to rest wherever possible, and that instinct hasn’t gone anywhere. Your lizard brain genuinely wants you to eat the carbs, sit down, and not do the scary thing. It’s keeping you alive, in its own way.
Even thinking uses energy. Staying mindful and aware, practising something new, breaking an old habit—all of it costs your brain more than coasting on autopilot. That’s why old patterns are so easy to slip back into. The old track is simply more efficient than building a new one.
So the next time you catch yourself saying “I’m so lazy,” try asking instead: which battery is running low right now, and what does it actually need?
So what do you do about it?
The first thing is to ditch the word lazy entirely. Not because it lets you off the hook, but because it’s not accurate, and inaccurate labels are genuinely unhelpful. When you tell yourself you’re lazy, you’re not solving anything. You’re just adding shame to an already depleted battery, and shame is one of the most energy expensive emotions there is. The Script absolutely loves the lazy label, by the way. It’ll use it against you every chance it gets, piling on when you’re already running low and making it even harder to get started.
Instead, try getting curious. Which battery is actually low right now? Have you been around people a lot and need some quiet time? Have you been pushing through difficult emotions without acknowledging them? Have you been physically exhausted and pretending you’re fine? The answer tells you something useful. Lazy tells you nothing except that you’re failing, which isn’t true and isn’t helpful.
Once you know which battery needs attention, you can start thinking about what actually charges it. And this is where it gets personal, because what restores one person completely depletes another. For some people a social evening out fills them back up. For others it costs them two days of recovery. Neither is wrong. They’re just different.
A particular note for neurodivergent folks
If you’re neurodivergent, the lazy label has probably followed you around for most of your life. ADHD, autism, dyspraxia and many other forms of neurodivergence come with what’s called a spiky profile, meaning your abilities, energy levels and capacity can vary enormously depending on the task, the environment, the day, and how much masking you’ve been doing.
Masking, for those unfamiliar with the term, is the enormous amount of energy it takes to appear neurotypical in a world that wasn’t designed for your brain. It’s exhausting in a way that’s very hard to explain to someone who doesn’t experience it. And when you’ve been masking all day and then can’t face cooking dinner or returning a phone call, that’s not laziness. That’s a battery that was running on fumes long before you got home. There’s also the challenge of battling your own executive dysfunction, trying to make yourself do something when your brain is just saying “I’m sorry Dave, I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
Many neurodivergent people have spent decades being told they’re not trying hard enough, not living up to their potential, taking the easy way out. The Script in a neurodivergent mind often has a particularly loud and well rehearsed lazy track, because it’s had so much external reinforcement over the years.
Understanding your own battery system, and what genuinely charges each one, is one of the most quietly revolutionary things you can do for yourself. Not because it gives you an excuse to do less, but because it gives you the right information to actually do more, sustainably, on your own terms.