I say "it is what it is" at least five times a day and I've started wondering when that phrase stopped being acceptance and became the thing I say instead of admitting I expected more from life and I'm too tired to be disappointed anymore

Five times a day. That's my conservative estimate.

"It is what it is" rolls off my tongue so automatically now that I barely notice when I say it. Traffic backed up for miles? It is what it is. Another project dumped on my desk with an impossible deadline? It is what it is. Friend canceling plans last minute, again? You guessed it.

I caught myself saying it to my reflection yesterday morning after noticing new lines around my eyes, and something clicked. When did this phrase stop being about acceptance and start being the verbal equivalent of a shrug? When did it become my shield against feeling anything too deeply?

The truth hit me like a cold splash of water: somewhere along the way, "it is what it is" became code for "I expected more, but I'm too exhausted to feel disappointed anymore."

The slow slide from acceptance to resignation

There's a world of difference between accepting reality and giving up on it. Acceptance is supposed to be empowering, right? It's about acknowledging what we can't control so we can focus on what we can. But resignation? That's just exhaustion wearing a mask.

I think about my burnout at 38. Back then, I was still fighting everything, still believing that if I just worked harder, stayed later, did more, things would change. The breakdown that followed wasn't pretty, but looking back, at least I still had the energy to break. At least I still cared enough to fall apart.

Now? I just say "it is what it is" and move on. No breaking. No falling apart. Just this weird, hollow acceptance that feels more like defeat.

When did protecting myself from disappointment become more important than hoping for something better?

The perfectionist's paradox

Here's something that might resonate if you've ever been labeled as "high potential" or "gifted." I got that label in elementary school, and let me tell you, it's both a blessing and a curse. You grow up believing you're supposed to do great things, be exceptional, never settle for mediocrity.

So when life turns out to be, well, ordinary in many ways, what do you do with all those expectations?

For years, I fought against ordinary. Every setback was a personal failure. Every unmet expectation was proof I wasn't living up to my potential. The perfectionism was exhausting, but at least it meant I was still trying, still believing things could be different.

"It is what it is" became my white flag. Instead of torturing myself over every imperfection, I could just accept it and move on. Healthy, right? Except somewhere I crossed the line from letting go of perfectionism to letting go of hope altogether.

When self-protection becomes self-sabotage

Have you ever noticed how disappointment feels physically heavy? Like someone placed weights on your chest and asked you to keep breathing normally? After enough disappointments, your body starts bracing for impact before anything even happens.

That's where "it is what it is" comes in handy. Say it enough, and you can convince yourself you never expected anything different. You can't be disappointed if you never hoped for more, right?

But here's what I'm learning: when we stop letting ourselves want things, we don't just protect ourselves from disappointment. We also cut ourselves off from joy, excitement, and possibility. We become spectators in our own lives, commenting on what happens rather than actively participating in it.

A therapist once asked me what I was afraid would happen if I let myself feel disappointed. I couldn't answer at first. Then it hit me: I was afraid that if I acknowledged how disappointed I was, I'd have to admit how much I'd hoped for. And admitting how much I'd hoped for felt like admitting how far I'd fallen short.

The exhaustion epidemic

Can we talk about how tired everyone seems to be? Not just physically tired, but soul-tired. The kind of tired that sleep doesn't fix.

I see it everywhere. In the grocery store, where people shuffle through with vacant eyes. In meetings, where "it is what it is" has become the unofficial motto for everything from budget cuts to canceled initiatives. We're all so tired of being disappointed that we've stopped expecting anything else.

My burnout at 36 taught me that exhaustion isn't just about doing too much. It's about caring too much while feeling like nothing you do makes a difference. So we stop caring. We say "it is what it is" and conserve our energy for... what exactly? Surviving another day of not caring?

The irony is that saying "it is what it is" constantly is exhausting in its own way. It takes energy to suppress hope, to tamp down desires, to convince yourself you don't want more.

Finding the middle ground

So where does this leave us? How do we find the balance between accepting reality and giving up on it?

I'm starting to experiment with replacing "it is what it is" with more honest phrases. When traffic is horrible, instead of my automatic response, I try "This is frustrating, and I can't control it." When work piles up unnecessarily, I say "This isn't ideal, but I'll do what I can."

These might seem like small changes, but they're helping me stay connected to my actual feelings instead of numbing out. They acknowledge both the reality AND my response to it.

I'm also trying to notice when "it is what it is" is actually appropriate versus when it's a cop-out. Accepting that I can't control other people's behavior? Healthy. Accepting that my life will never be more than a series of disappointing compromises? Not so much.

Permission to want more

What if we gave ourselves permission to want more without requiring ourselves to get it? What if disappointment didn't mean failure but just meant we're still alive enough to hope for something?

I'm learning that the opposite of "it is what it is" isn't toxic positivity or delusional thinking. It's more like "it is what it is right now, but that doesn't mean it always will be." It's holding space for both acceptance and possibility.

Yes, I'm tired. Yes, I've been disappointed more times than I can count. But maybe that's not a reason to stop hoping. Maybe it's evidence that despite everything, some part of me still believes things could be different.

Final thoughts

If you've been saying "it is what it is" on repeat, maybe it's worth asking yourself what you're really saying. Are you practicing healthy acceptance, or are you protecting yourself from feeling?

There's no shame in being tired. There's no shame in needing to protect yourself sometimes. But there's also no rule that says accepting reality means giving up on the possibility of change.

Maybe the next time I catch myself about to say "it is what it is," I'll pause. Maybe I'll let myself feel the disappointment, the frustration, or the hope I'm trying to avoid. Maybe I'll remember that feeling something, even if it's uncomfortable, is better than feeling nothing at all.

Because at the end of the day, saying "it is what it is" five times a day isn't acceptance. It's absence. And I think I'd rather be present for my life, disappointments and all, than absent from it.