I keep repeating wudu until I'm empty

I read Between Two Heartbeats tonight and I kept thinking about the small, ordinary ways faith tugs at us. For me it is wudu. I will stand at the sink, splash water, then doubt whether my forehead touched water, whether my fingers missed a joint. I repeat it until my hands are pruney and my chest is tight, and the waswas has already worn me out before I even say Bismillah. My grandmother used to make tea at fajr and pray like she had all the time in the world. I miss that calm. Has anyone else felt this same exhaustion before prayer?