We love to blame the battery. “My social battery is dead.” “I’m tapped.” “Can’t—recharging.”

Relatable, sure. But what if the battery isn’t the problem? What if the problem is that we keep plugging into the wrong outlets—rooms that demand performance over presence, conversations that skim the surface, plans that never make it past “we should.” I’m going to say something I think you need to hear: most of us aren’t exhausted from people. We’re exhausted from pretending. From polite small talk. From plans with no pulse. From showing up to things that don’t feel like us. That’s not depletion—it’s disconnection.

So, just as I reframed friendship as the greatest love story last week, I think we need to reframe energy as the echo of alignment. Because the nights that light you up aren’t the loudest or longest—they’re the ones where you felt seen, safe, and a little bit more yourself when you left. Grab a drink, and let me explain why..

How We Mistake Disconnection for “Low Battery”

• Performance fatigue. You dressed the part, smiled on cue, and never actually said how you’re really doing. That’s not socializing; that’s stage time.

• Plan limbo. The “let’s hang soon” purgatory drains you because it’s a cycle of micro-disappointments. Intentionality is energizing. Specifics are soothing. Vagueness is not.

• Wrong rooms, right you. There’s nothing “wrong” with you if a space doesn’t fit—church shoes will blister on a hiking trail. Alignment fuels stamina; misalignment siphons it.

• Shallow loops. Ten fast catch-ups with zero depth will tire you faster than one honest hour with your person. Your nervous system craves depth: context, history, the why behind the what. Trade the “busy!” volley for better prompts—“what felt heavy, what felt good, what surprised you?” Watch your energy climb as your conversation does.

• Digital closeness, physical distance. DMs and group chats mimic intimacy, but your body knows the difference. Without tone, touch, eye contact, or shared air, connection stalls in your head instead of landing in your chest. Use digital to bridge, not replace

  
  

So let’s retire the myth and try these instead…start by choosing depth over noise: one plan you’re excited for will always beat three you’re merely “fine” about. Trade performance for presence by opening the night with a simple check-in—high, low, truth—and resist the urge to fix anything for at least ten minutes. 

Make connection tangible by turning “we should hang” into drink, time, place; details are a form of devotion. Then ritualize friendship with recurring Wednesdays, monthly “us” dinners, or a standing walk—rhythms that keep relationships warm without the calendar ping-pong. 

Say smaller yes’s, too. Ninety minutes instead of five hours keeps the night sweet and your energy steady. And, what’s stopping you from letting your night have a theme bring a story you’ve never told me, swap three recommendations, or go thirty minutes with no work talk. Sometimes, it’s constraint that creates connection.

When you plan, steer toward green flags that actually recharge you. Picture two chairs and a first round with no agenda—just you and your person, phones down. Try a walk-and-talk, because side-by-side honesty is easier than across-the-table performance. Meet in third spaces that feel like you: the neighborhood bar that knows your order, the café where your shoulders drop, the quiet booth that lets conversation stretch. Mix in a skill-swap night—teach me your thing, I’ll teach you mine—because curiosity is its own caffeine. And never underestimate the micro-celebration: no milestone required. “We survived Tuesday” is reason enough.

Then, there are a few habits to lovingly retire. Stop treating friends like they’ll “just get it” when you cancel for the fourth time. Skip the default group hang when what you really crave is a 1:1. Don’t wait for some Big Occasion to be intentional—intention is the occasion. And please stop calling it “low battery” when it’s actually low honesty; say what you want, need, or don’t have capacity for.

So the next time you feel “drained,” run a quick diagnostic. Did you spend time with someone who really sees you? Did you talk like humans or perform like avatars? And did the plan have a pulse—or was it another vague calendar hold? Because more often than not, our battery isn’t dead. Our connections are. And that’s fixable—in small, intentional, beautifully ordinary ways. Until next time x