Burnout doesn’t always look dramatic.
We often picture someone who can’t get out of bed. Who misses deadlines. Someone we can visibly see unraveling in full-blown panic mode.
But as long as we’re performing, showing up, checking boxes.
Still training.
Still working.
Then from the outside, we look successful.
While inside, we quietly run on fumes, 6 cups of coffee, and a 10-minute nap at noon.
The strangest thing is, the very skills that help us achieve extraordinary things can also make it difficult to recognize when we’re not hunky-dory. We’re disciplined enough to keep going while also being responsible enough to ensure no one’s worried about us.
I often don’t realize how exhausted I am because every day starts over again. Strange how that works. Rock bottom would be both obvious and difficult to ignore.
The real scene. The one most of us endure is a slow drift that happens so gradually we barely noticed it. That makes it hard to recognize.
We think it arrives all at once. But really, it arrives one ignored feeling at a time.
“I’ll rest after this project”
“I’ll deal with it next week.”
One more goal.
One more obligation.
(I’m guilty on all four counts!)
We endure right up until the moment we don’t.
Ironically, achievement isn’t the real problem.
My ambition took me to two Paralympic Games, created lifelong friendships, flew me all over the world, and a built a career I loved. My burnout from training for the Paralympics is honestly its own feature film and a story for another day.
The problem was believing that because I could carry it...
I should.
Lately, I've stopped asking myself how much I can carry. And started asking:
“What would life look like if I stopped carrying everything and started putting it down instead?”
(I haven’t done it yet, so I don’t have the answer. You’ll just have to stick around.)
If any of this resonated with you, I’d love to know:
What’s your burnout story?
Were you able to recognize it while you were still in it?