How I Deal with Burnout

MỤC LỤC

Burnout doesn’t always show up with big warning signs. Sometimes it sneaks in quietly — like a fog that slowly thickens until everything feels dull. That’s how it found me.

Living in New York, the pace is fast. There’s always something to do, somewhere to be, someone expecting a reply. For a while, I was fine with it. I thrived on busy schedules, deadlines, the hum of productivity. But then, I hit a wall. Mentally, emotionally, physically — I just didn’t want to do anything. Even the things I loved felt like chores.

If you’ve been there, or think you might be heading there, this is my honest story of how I deal with burnout — what helps me notice it, what gets me through it, and what I’ve learned along the way.

Recognizing the Early Signs

Burnout doesn’t always scream. It whispers.

For me, the earliest signs weren’t dramatic. I just started feeling… off. I’d wake up already tired. I started procrastinating things I usually enjoyed. Even small tasks — like answering emails or folding laundry — felt enormous.

At first, I blamed myself. “You’re just being lazy.” But the truth was, I wasn’t being lazy — I was running on empty.

The biggest red flag? When rest didn’t feel restorative. I could sleep 9 hours and still feel drained. That’s when I knew it was more than just a rough week.

Stepping Back, Even Just a Little

When I start to sense burnout, I try to step back — not in a dramatic “quit everything and disappear” way, but in small, intentional ways.

I’ve learned that I don’t need a three-week vacation to reset. Sometimes, I just need to give myself permission to pause.

I do things like:

Turn off notifications for an afternoon
Cancel a non-essential plan — no guilt
Spend time offline, even just an hour or two
Do one thing slowly — like cooking without multitasking
Let myself feel tired without trying to push through it

These pauses don’t solve everything, but they give me breathing room. And sometimes, that’s enough to start climbing out of the fog.

The Power of Saying “No”

One of the hardest — but most necessary — things I’ve learned is how to say no.

When I’m burned out, it’s often because I’ve said yes to too many things: too many projects, too many social plans, too many responsibilities I thought I could handle.

Now, I ask myself: What’s truly essential right now?

If it’s not helping me recover or keeping me stable, it can wait. The world won’t end if I delay replying to a message or skip an optional meeting.

Every “no” is a “yes” to something else — usually rest, space, or peace of mind.

Moving My Body, Gently

I used to think I had to “power through” burnout with intense workouts. Turns out, that just made it worse.

Now, I lean into gentle movement — walks around my neighborhood, light stretching, slow yoga.

Some days, I’ll just pace around my apartment with a podcast playing. Other days, I walk to the corner bodega just for the sake of moving.

I don’t aim to break a sweat — I aim to breathe. To reconnect with my body in a kind, non-demanding way.

Creating Micro-Rituals That Ground Me

When life feels overwhelming, I return to the smallest routines. I call them micro-rituals — little things I can control that bring structure and softness back to my day.

For example:

Lighting a candle before starting work
Making the same cup of tea every afternoon
Cleaning one small surface — just the desk, or just the sink
Changing into comfy clothes when I get home
Taking a few deep breaths before opening my laptop

These habits don’t require much energy, but they remind me I’m allowed to slow down. They make life feel manageable again.

Talking About It (Even When I Don’t Want To)

When I’m burned out, I tend to withdraw. I tell myself no one wants to hear me complain or that I should be able to “deal with it” on my own.

But the truth? Saying it out loud helps.

Sometimes I’ll text a friend: “I’m feeling a little off lately. Might need some space but just wanted to say hey.” Other times, I’ll call my sister and just vent for five minutes.

Even journaling — just dumping out all the thoughts in my head — helps me process what’s going on.

Burnout thrives in silence. Connection — even small, imperfect connection — loosens its grip.

Rebuilding Slowly (Not All at Once)

Recovering from burnout isn’t a single decision. It’s a slow rebuild.

I’ve learned not to expect myself to bounce back in a day or even a week. Instead, I focus on tiny wins:

Getting through a workday without overloading myself
Making dinner instead of ordering out
Laughing at a dumb meme with a friend
Feeling genuinely excited about something, even briefly

Each moment like that is a sign I’m healing — and I try to notice and celebrate them.

What Doesn’t Help (At Least for Me)

There are some things I’ve tried to do during burnout that just didn’t work — and actually made things worse:

Shame spiraling: beating myself up for being “unproductive”
Doom-scrolling: mindless Instagram or TikTok binging
Overcommitting: thinking a packed schedule will motivate me
“Toxic positivity”: forcing myself to be upbeat when I’m not
Comparing: looking at people who seem to be thriving and feeling worse

If anything drains me more, it’s pretending I’m fine when I’m not. Honesty, even with myself, is more healing than any shortcut.

Making Space for Joy Again

Eventually, the fog starts to lift — not all at once, but in moments.

I’ll catch myself humming along to a song again. I’ll feel a flicker of creativity. I’ll want to clean my apartment, not because I “should,” but because I want to feel more at home in it.

When those moments come, I don’t question them. I let them in.

And I remind myself: joy isn’t something I have to earn back. It’s something I can welcome in, little by little, as I recover.

My Verdict

Burnout is real, and it’s sneaky. It doesn’t always look like collapsing in exhaustion — sometimes it’s just the slow fading of motivation, joy, and presence.

What’s helped me most is learning to listen early, pause often, and recover gently. I don’t try to “fix” it overnight. I focus on small shifts that remind me I’m human — and that it’s okay to rest.

If you’re in that fog right now, know this: you’re not broken. You’re just tired. And tired people deserve care, not criticism.