The Exhaustion of Feeling Half-Present Everywhere
The Weary Heart #16
Have you ever been in a room smiling politely, nodding when people talk to you, but inside - you are somewhere else entirely?
Maybe it’s with someone you miss.
Maybe it’s in a conversation you wish you’d handled differently.
Maybe it’s in a future you’re scared of
…or a past you still haven’t let go of.
It’s exhausting.
Not because people around you are boring, or because the room lacks energy, but because you’re fighting two battles at the same time; the one happening right in front of you, and the one that’s playing on repeat in your mind.
When You’re in Two Places at Once
For me, this shows up in the smallest, most ordinary moments.
I could be having coffee with a friend, and the conversation drifts to something light, but my mind suddenly wanders to an email I haven’t replied to.
Or I’ll be sitting in a meeting, but a part of me is rehearsing what I’ll say to someone later that night.
On paper, I’m there.
In reality, I’m split.
It’s like having two open tabs in your brain. But instead of switching smoothly between them, both are running “heavy videos” at the same time, draining your mental battery.
It’s not just social situations. Even in prayer, you might be standing in front of Allah, and you catch your thoughts drifting to a meeting you’ll have tomorrow.
The Cause We Don’t Like to Admit
I’ve noticed that some of us like to blame busyness.
We say, “I’m just swamped.”
But the deeper reason is often more uncomfortable: we don’t know how to let go.
We’re afraid that if we stop thinking about that person, we’ll lose them.
If we stop replaying that conversation, we’ll miss the chance to “fix” it in our heads.
If we stop worrying about the future, we’ll be unprepared when it arrives.
So we carry it all with us…
to the dinner table with our kids,
to our prayer mat with Allah,
to the café with our friends.
And slowly, presence becomes a stranger.
A Personal Moment of Realisation
I remember once while leading a workshop.
Dozens of people in the room.
Slides on the screen.
Questions coming in.
From the outside, I was calm, engaged, in control.
But inside?
Part of me was stuck in a text message from earlier that morning, a message that had unsettled me.
It kept flashing in my mind like a stubborn notification I couldn’t swipe away. So I went through the motions. The session ultimately went fine, alhamdulillah.
But I walked away knowing I had given them only seventy percent of me. And that’s something I don’t like.
And that bothered me deeply.
Because I believe people deserve the version of you that is fully here with them, not the leftovers after your mind has been somewhere else.
The Prophet Who Showed Us True Presence
One of the most powerful examples of presence in our tradition is in the life of our beloved Prophet Muhammad ﷺ.
In a hadith narrated in Sahih Muslim, when he would turn to speak to someone,
it is said that he would face them fully - body, eyes, attention - as if they were the only person in the world at that moment.
Think about that.
The most important man in the world, with the heaviest mission on earth, could have been forgiven for having his mind elsewhere.
Yet he made the person in front of him feel fully seen.
Why?
Because presence is not a luxury. It is an act of respect, God-consciousness, and mercy.
The Leaking Jug
Imagine your attention as water in a jug.
You’re holding it carefully.
You want to pour it into the cup in front of you;
a conversation, a project, a prayer.
But if there are cracks in the jug, the water will leak out before it reaches the cup.
Those cracks?
They’re the unresolved conversations,
the unfinished decisions,
the worries about your future,
and the regrets about your past.
You think you’re pouring fully into this moment, but in reality, you’re giving it whatever’s left - after ALL the leaks.
The Hidden Cost of Half-Presence
Being half-present steals more from you than you realise.
It steals connection.
People can feel when you’re not really there with them.
It’s in your delayed responses, the way your eyes glaze over, and the subtle tension in your shoulders.
It steals opportunity.
Because you’re mentally absent,
you miss the detail in what someone says that could have sparked an idea or opened a new door.
And it steals peace.
Your mind is constantly processing multiple “rooms” at once,
no wonder you feel tired even after doing “nothing.”
Here’s Another Analogy: The Untuned Radio
Think of your attention like an old radio. (perhaps millennials and those more senior can relate to this better?)
When you’re fully tuned in,
the music is clear and beautiful.
But if you’re trying to listen to two stations at once, you only get static.
The static is your half-presence.
It’s the fuzziness in conversations.
It’s why you leave an event thinking,
“I was there, but I didn’t really experience it.”
Why It’s So Hard to Anchor Ourselves
We live in a culture that rewards divided attention.
Multi-tasking is seen as efficiency.
Being “reachable anytime” is worn like a badge of honour.
We keep our phones close, not because we need them right now, but because the possibility of needing them makes us feel safer.
But presence requires risk.
It means saying, “I will put my whole self here, even if something else happens without me.”
That’s uncomfortable for the part of us that’s addicted to control.
A Quranic Reminder
In Surah Al-Mu’minun, Allah describes the believers:
"Those who are humble in their prayer" (Quran 23:2)
The word khushu here: humility, focus,
isn’t about the position of your body. It’s about where your heart is.
If you can train yourself to be fully present in prayer with Allah, even for a few minutes, you are training the same muscle that will help you be present with people, with work, with life.
Practical Anchors for the Present
Declare it to yourself
Literally say to yourself: “I am here, in this room, talking to this person.”
It sounds silly, but it interrupts the autopilot mode.
Close the other tabs.
If you’re with someone, put your phone away completely.
Out of sight, out of reach.
Breathe into the moment.
Three slow breaths while looking around the room can pull your mind out of the future or the past, and recalibrate to the present.
Set aside “thinking time.”
If you need to process something, give it a dedicated slot in your day.
That way it doesn’t hijack random moments.
Make presence an intention.
Just like you make the niyyah before prayer, silently intend to “be here” before you walk into a meeting, start a meal, or greet a friend.
When You Can’t Be Fully Present
Friends, let’s be real, sometimes you just can’t.
If someone you love is in hospital, if you’re waiting on urgent news, your heart will wander.
And in those moments, honesty is better than pretending.
You can say, “I’m here with you, but part of me is elsewhere right now.”
It’s kinder to them and to yourself.
But when you do manage to be fully present, you’ll feel it.
The conversation flows. Your mind feels lighter. Time seems slower. And the people around you feel closer.
It’s a similar feeling you get when you stand before the Ka’bah and for once, your mind isn’t on your phone, your bills, or your to-do list.
It’s just you, Allah, and the moment.
That is presence.
And it is worth protecting.
We all leave pieces of ourselves scattered.
In unfinished conversations.
In places we once lived.
In dreams we still haven’t decided to chase.
But life is happening here.
In this room. Right now. With these people. At this table.
So pour your water into the cup in front of you.
Seal the cracks.
Tune the radio.
Let the moment be enough.
Because half-presence will only ever give you half a life.
Live fully,
MW
PS: Have you checked out my upcoming KL events? =)
PPS: Singaporean peeps, Happy National Day! Here are my upcoming SG events in case you missed them!
PPPS: Brunei, please block your calendar (23-24 Oct) inshaAllah. Can’t wait to meet again~