I didn’t recognise it at first.
Burnout doesn’t always arrive loudly. Sometimes it sneaks in, disguised as forgetfulness, irritation, or that creeping sense of “I just don’t care anymore.” For me, it was a strange blend of exhaustion and detachment. I was doing all the right things: working in a field I loved, helping people, keeping it together, but inside, I was frayed.
If you’re reading this, you might know that feeling too.
What burnout actually is (and what it’s not)
Burnout isn’t the same as being tired. It’s not solved by a nap or a weekend off (although those things do help). Burnout is a state of chronic physical and emotional depletion, often caused by sustained stress, high emotional demands, and a lack of support or autonomy.
According to the World Health Organisation, burnout is characterised by:
- Emotional exhaustion
- Depersonalisation (feeling disconnected or numb)
- Reduced sense of accomplishment or effectiveness
In my work, I see this especially in caregivers, teachers, healthcare professionals, and highly sensitive people – those who feel deeply, give generously, and rarely take a breath for themselves.
And here’s the tricky part: burnout often shows up in people who genuinely care. It doesn’t mean you’re doing something wrong. It means your system is overloaded.
What it felt like for me
At one point, I was journaling: “I have nothing left for myself after I’ve done everything for everyone else.”
You’d think that with a healthcare background, I would recognise the signs of burnout in myself then. But I didn’t. I continued giving, showing up, and trying, until my body just couldn’t keep up anymore. I battled colds and flu’s regularly and I was struggling to sleep, my body was forcing me to stop.
That’s when I realised this wasn’t just a rough week or month. I had been getting warning signals for a while, and I had missed (ignored?) them. This time I had to listen.
Three things I wish I had realised earlier:
- I don’t have to earn rest.
I am allowed to stop even if everything isn’t “finished.” My worth isn’t tied to my productivity.
- Saying “I’m burnt out” is not a weakness, it’s wisdom.
Naming it helped me take back my power. It shifted the shame and opened the door to healing.
- Recovery isn’t linear.
There will be good days and hard ones. Days where I feel like myself again, and others when everything still feels like too much. That’s normal. That’s healing.
Where do we begin?
Burnout recovery often starts with permission. Permission to rest, to feel, to step back, to ask for help. In future posts, I’ll be sharing tools I use in therapy and coaching: journaling prompts, nervous system strategies, and simple ways to reconnect with yourself.
But for today, maybe the first step is just saying:
This is where I am. I’m burnt out. And I don’t have to stay here.
You don’t have to carry this alone. Let the page hold it, if only for a while.
With gentle strength,
Annika
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