People talk about burnout all the time. It’s a word that gets thrown around when someone is tired, busy, or overwhelmed. But until you’ve truly experienced burnout, it’s hard to comprehend just how all-consuming it is.
It’s not just stress. It’s not just needing a break. It’s something deeper, something that takes over every part of you – your mind, your body, your emotions – until you’re so done, you feel like you’re coming undone.
I’ve talked a bit about the lead-up to my burnout experience, and started to share things about my recovery journey – but what I haven’t done is really describe what it actually felt like – not in vague terms, but in the raw, messy, unfiltered reality of it.
Because if you’re in it right now, you might be struggling to put into words what’s happening to you. I know I was.
When you’re so deep in it, it’s hard to make sense of it. But now, with the benefit of hindsight, I can describe it more clearly.
So here’s what burnout felt like for me the first time I experienced it four years ago.
Note: If you’re not feeling all of these things, it doesn’t mean you’re not experiencing burnout! Not everyone’s experience is the same. Ideally, you recognise the signs before you reach this point – or worse.
It Took Over My Work Life
Work, which had once been something I loved and was good at – something that gave me purpose – became the thing I dreaded most.
After years of giving my career everything I had, I lost my confidence completely.
I had a career curveball that shattered my sense of self. Before that, I had been someone who knew I was good at my job. I had the skills, the experience, and the track record to prove it.
But after that, I started questioning everything.
I became convinced that I was failing. That I wasn’t as good as I used to be – was I ever any good at all? That everyone around me could see I was struggling. That my boss, my colleagues, my peers were all secretly wondering:
What happened to her?
I would sit in meetings, trying to contribute, but second-guessing every word before I even said it.
I reread emails five times before sending them, terrified I’d written something dumb.
The imposter syndrome feelings became unbearable.
The more I told myself I wasn’t smart enough, capable enough, or good enough, the more it became a self-fulfilling prophecy.
I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t think clearly. I couldn’t make decisions with the same confidence I once had.
Even though I was trying really hard, I physically couldn’t concentrate on anything.
I hit a point where I just couldn’t take anything in:
- I would stare at my screen, unable to absorb information.
- On video calls, everything just sounded like “blah, blah, blah”.
- I felt resentful of everyone who was still enthusiastic about work.
- Things that used to excite me felt meaningless.
- Even the most basic tasks took forever.
Every day felt like a performance – going through the motions, trying to act like I was ok, like I had it together.
But inside, I was unraveling.
And in the moments of quiet, when the noise of work and meetings and emails died down, all the negative thoughts would come crashing in:
You’re not good at this anymore.
You’re failing.
Everyone can see it.
You should quit before they find out.
The Paranoia That Wouldn’t Let Me Rest
Burnout doesn’t just come with exhaustion – it comes with a mind that won’t shut off.
For me, one of the worst parts was the paranoia in social situations.
The anxiety became so bad that sometimes, I just wouldn’t go out at all. When I did, I would often drink too much.
I wanted to be with my friends and feel normal, but I was afraid of saying something silly, being too much.
I became hyper-aware of everything I said.
I replayed conversations in my head for days, even weeks, beating myself up for even the smallest of things.
The Spiral of Self-Doubt and Guilt
Burnout didn’t just make me doubt my abilities – it made me doubt my worth.
I questioned everything about myself.
I replayed every failure, every mistake.
I felt like I had nothing left to give – but also felt like I didn’t deserve to feel better.
You have a nice home. You have a great husband. You have a good job. What do you even have to complain about?
And that thought sent me even further into the spiral.
This is a first-world problem. People have it worse. I don’t deserve to feel bad.
And that turned into hating myself for feeling the way I did.
I became convinced that the only way to escape was to run away. I wanted to quit my job, sell my home, and disappear.
That’s not just tiredness. That’s a total loss of self.
It Felt Like My Brain Was Eating Itself
I was overthinking everything.
- Work.
- Social situations.
- My drinking.
- My never-ending to-do list.
Consumed by self-doubt and self-loathing, I had so much going on inside my mind at any given time that I couldn’t pinpoint it to just one thing.
It felt like my brain was eating itself – the overthinking actually physically hurt and gave me headaches.
The constant feeling of panic – even when doing simple tasks like folding washing – made it feel like anxiety was always chasing me. I was always rushing, always feeling like I had to rush, even when there was no reason to.
Drinking Kept Me Stuck in a Loop
I had always used alcohol in the ways many people do – to celebrate, to unwind, to get in the mood before going out.
But burnout made me acutely aware that I was drinking to numb myself – and I still did it anyway.
- I drank to quiet my brain, to stop overanalysing everything that had happened at work.
- I drank to forget the things that were eating me up inside.
- I drank to feel something other than stress, exhaustion, and resentment.
But it was never enough.
Once I started, I couldn’t stop – because the feeling I was chasing was never fully there.
The only way to completely drown out the stress was to drink until I didn’t feel any of it anymore.
And the worst part? There’s a very fine line between not feeling it any more and being completely blacked out. I didn’t always realise when I had crossed that line.
I would have “one last drink,” thinking I was fine – only to wake up the next day after blacking out and realise that I had already tipped over the edge.
I would wake up with a killer hangover that lasted all day, often triggering a three-day migraine, feeling even worse.
And the cycle would start all over again the next weekend.
The Physical Toll: When Burnout Lives in Your Body
Burnout doesn’t just live in your mind, it manifests in your body. Here’s some of the physical things that happened to me:
- Migraines That Wouldn’t End – Three-day-long migraines that felt like my head was in a vice, pulsating down my neck and making me nauseous. Sometimes, they were triggered by alcohol blackouts, but other times, they came out of nowhere.
- Gut Issues That Controlled My Life – Going a full week without being able to empty my bowels, leaving me bloated, cramped, uncomfortable, and in pain. I felt like my digestive system had shut down completely.
- Frozen Shoulder and Muscle Pain – Chronic tension locked up my body, making simple movements painful. My muscles ached constantly, and even sleeping in certain positions became unbearable.
- Sleep That Felt Impossible – Waking up multiple times during the night, my mind instantly in overdrive, replaying work conversations or worrying about the next day. No amount of rest felt like enough. Even sleeping tablets rarely helped.
- Skin-Picking and Self-Neglect – I picked and chewed the skin around my fingers until they bled, not stopping even when it hurt. I didn’t care enough to try and stop.
Burnout, Round Two: Catching It Earlier This Time
As I write this, I’m in the midst of my recovery from round two. But this time, I caught it before I reached stage 12. It wasn’t as bad as the first time, but I knew where I was headed.
I refuse to let myself go all the way back to that place.
The difference now is that I see the patterns. I recognise what’s happening. I know what needs to change.
Final Thoughts: Why I’m Writing This
I’m not writing this because I’ve figured it all out – I’m writing it because I didn’t see it coming.
Burnout doesn’t usually arrive with flashing lights. It creeps in quietly – through exhaustion you dismiss, joy that starts to feel forced, and that slow fading of yourself you can’t quite explain. I didn’t realise how far gone I was until I hit a wall I couldn’t push through.
I kept going because that’s what I’d always done. I told myself I was fine – just tired, just busy, just stressed. But the truth is, I was slowly disappearing under the weight of it all.
And I know I’m not the only one.
I’m sharing this because maybe you’re in that space now – still functioning, still smiling, but feeling hollow underneath. Or maybe someone close to you is, and you’re not sure what’s going on.
Burnout isn’t a personal failure. It’s a warning signal.
And if reading this helps even one person recognise the signs earlier, take themselves seriously sooner, or feel less alone in what they’re going through – then every bit of vulnerability it took for me to write this is worth it.
This isn’t just my story. It’s one too many people are living in silence. And the more we talk about it, the sooner we can change that.
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