It happened on a rainy Thursday morning inside the Gonzaga cafeteria. I sat down beside my friends, complaining about a headache and all the work I had done in the past week. As I put my head down on the table, one of them asked, “Maybe it’s physical burnout?” but I didn’t want to consider it. It made me panic thinking about the amount of work I’d have to catch up on if I got sick. I planned my schedule out evenly to have time for my academics, org work, and social life. Ruining that rhythm meant that I’d have to catch up on so many other things.
Later that night, I had a fever that reached 39 degrees Celsius and my headache only got worse. I lay in bed, admitting defeat and that maybe I was indeed experiencing burnout. It wasn’t the first time I got burnt out. However, it was the first time I experienced it that badly. It was my body literally shutting down and telling me to stop working. As someone who loves to work, I was terrified about how I couldn’t do anything. I felt betrayed because my body decided to give up on me after having all these dreams and plans that I hoped to achieve. It was a crushing weight on my chest, but I knew the only person I could blame for my exhaustion was myself.
At the same time, the experience was a reminder that I didn’t prioritize my well-being enough amongst all the responsibilities I had. I forgot the last time I was able to binge watch a show on Netflix, read a book for my own pleasure, or sit outside and stare blankly at the night sky. That experience of burnout brought me so much clarity that I had flashbacks to all the events and opportunities I missed out on because I prioritized work. My fear of missing out ironically led me to miss out on the things that made me feel human.
I used to live by the statement “go big or go home.” I thought everything I did required me to be at my 100% and that separating myself meant giving less. Now, I’m forced to rethink my priorities and how I manage my time. While recovering from physical burnout, I finally picked up a book again. It felt nostalgic to smell the pages of a book and to face it instead of the blue light of my laptop. I got lost in the story instead of drowning in work notifications. Putting work on hold was scary, but liberating. “Baby steps are better than none,” I reminded myself as I scrolled through my social media timelines and caught up on what my friends were doing.
Healing won’t come easy. I know this. There are still days where I feel like I’m going to crash and burn as badly as last time. Because of burnout, I feel like I lost the part of me that likes to have fun and that prioritizes herself. I’m still figuring out where I lost her along the way, but I’d like to find her again. Learning to take a break is still challenging after years of having the mentality that I should constantly give my everything, even into the early hours of the night. Now, I chose to take a step back from my desk and take a break when I know I need it.
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