The first face you already know — it's why you're here. Exhaustion: drained by the day, unrefreshed by the night, running on a tank that never quite fills. It's the direct readout of the recovery deficit from last session. It comes first, and everything else grows out of it.
Here's the part almost nobody explains, and it changes how the second face feels. Cynicism — the detachment, the going-through-the-motions, the dark jokes about work you used to care about — isn't a personality change. It's a protective maneuver. When exhaustion runs long enough without an answer, the psyche does the only cost-cutting it can do unilaterally: it withdraws investment. Caring is expensive. Distance is cheaper. Cynicism is your mind forcing a spending freeze because nobody upstairs balanced the budget.
That's why telling yourself to 'care more' does nothing. The caring didn't leave because you're bitter. It left because it was unaffordable.
The third face is the quietest and often the most painful: inefficacy — 'I'm useless at this now. I used to be better.' Here's the mechanism to hold onto: inefficacy is largely the story the first two faces write. Exhaustion makes everything slower and harder, cynicism strips the satisfaction out of finishing, and the mind — always hungry for a narrative — concludes that you've lost your ability. The feeling of competence degrades long before the fact of it does. Week four puts that story on trial with your own records; for now, just note that it *is* a story, written by tiredness, about tiredness.
Most people arrive here with a lot of face one, a growing amount of face two, and a whisper of face three. Wherever you are on that map is information about how far the equation has run — nothing more. The three faces share one root, which means they share one treatment: rebuild the recovery side, and the later faces lose their fuel in order — cynicism first, then the inefficacy story runs out of evidence.