I Didn’t Realize I Was Burnt Out Until I Couldn't Feel Anything
I used to think burnout was just being tired. Like, really tired. The kind of tired you fix with a vacation or a long weekend. I never imagined it could be something deeper—something so silent and consuming that you only notice it when it’s almost too late.
I remember waking up one day and not feeling excited about anything—not the coffee I used to love, not the messages from friends, not even the long walk with my dog that usually cleared my head. Everything just... flattened.
That was the moment I realized something was really wrong. But of course, I ignored it. Like most of us do. I told myself it was just a phase, probably because of work or the weather or whatever excuse I could create to keep pretending.
But weeks passed. Then months.
"You look so put together," someone told me at a gathering. I smiled. I was hollow inside.
That's the thing about burnout—it doesn’t always scream. Sometimes, it whispers. It sits with you quietly while you push through deadlines, smile in meetings, post happy photos, and slowly lose grip on your own emotions.
What Burnout Really Feels Like
Imagine being in a room full of people and feeling like your soul is somewhere else. You’re present, but you’re not there. You say things. You laugh at the right moments. You nod and smile. But inside, you feel... gone.
I wasn’t sad. That would’ve been easier to notice. I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t crying in corners or skipping work. I was just... numb.
That numbness is what scared me the most.
I used to find joy in little things—reading late at night, baking banana bread, lighting a candle while writing in my journal. But burnout stole that from me. It made everything feel like a task, even joy.
What Caused It?
I used to be a "yes" person. Always helping, always saying yes to new responsibilities, even when my plate was already full. I thought that’s what being strong looked like—being able to do it all.
But strength, I’ve learned, is also knowing when to stop. When to say, “No, not right now.” When to give yourself permission to be human.
According to HelpGuide, burnout isn’t just about being overwhelmed. It’s about being emotionally exhausted, feeling unappreciated, and losing a sense of meaning.
The Turning Point
One night, I sat on my kitchen floor with a cup of cold tea. I had been staring at the wall for over an hour. No music. No phone. Just me and the silence. It wasn’t peaceful. It was empty.
And that’s when it hit me—I couldn’t go on like this.
The next morning, I took a sick day—not because I had a fever, but because I needed to rest. Genuinely rest. I turned off notifications. I canceled things. I gave myself space.
How I Started Healing
Healing didn’t come in one weekend. Or one month. It took time. But I started with small things:
- Waking up 15 minutes earlier to sit in silence before the world demanded my attention.
- Writing down one thing I was grateful for—even if it was just “I made it through the day.”
- Reconnecting with people who didn’t expect me to be “on” all the time.
- Reading articles like this one from PsychCentral about emotional burnout and how to recover.
Slowly, I started to feel again. I laughed at something dumb on the internet. I felt sad while watching a movie—and I welcomed it. Feeling something, anything, was a sign I was coming back.
What I Know Now
Burnout doesn’t always look like falling apart. Sometimes it looks like functioning. Smiling. Answering emails. Meeting deadlines.
So if you're feeling like a shell of yourself, please know you’re not alone. And it doesn’t make you weak. It means you’ve been strong for too long without a break.
Let this be your permission slip to rest.
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— Written by someone who's still healing, one breath at a time.
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