Burnout Feels Like Playing Life on Hard Mode

Hey friend,

Why didn’t anyone tell us how hard adulting was going to be?

I absolutely would have reconsidered signing up.

Bills. Taxes. Work. Appointments. Emails. Laundry that apparently regenerates overnight. Remembering passwords. Remembering why you walked into a room. Figuring out what everyone is going to eat every single day for the rest of your natural life.

Bleh.

When I was in my twenties, I used to almost brag about living day to day. I didn’t make a lot of plans. I lived in the moment, flew by the seat of my pants, and just kind of waited to see where life took me.

At forty-something, that sounds horrifying.

The problem is, becoming older did not magically turn me into a highly organized person who plans three weeks ahead and has a color-coded calendar.

So despite my greatest intentions, I still sometimes live by the seat of my pants.

There are just a lot more consequences now when the pants take you in the wrong direction.

And if you’re neurodivergent, you may know exactly what I mean.

Sometimes being neurodivergent in a world largely built around neurotypical expectations feels like playing the game of life on the highest difficulty setting.

Things that seem simple on paper somehow require twelve steps.

You finally remember the thing you were supposed to do, but now you can’t find the thing you need to do the thing.

You spend so much energy trying to stay organized, stay focused, stay productive, stay emotionally regulated, remember appointments, keep up with work, keep up with relationships and generally appear to be a functioning adult that eventually…

the system starts overheating.

That’s what burnout has felt like for me.

The road to burnout reminds me of playing the same level of a video game over and over.

At first, you think:

Okay. I almost had it. One more try.

Then:

Alright. That was annoying, but I know what I did wrong.

Then somehow the level starts feeling harder instead of easier.

Your reflexes get worse.

You make stupid mistakes.

You’re frustrated.

You stop having fun.

Eventually you don’t even want to beat the level anymore.

You just want to throw the entire console out the window.

Not that I recommend doing that.

Consoles are expensive.

But I understand the impulse.

Burnout and depression can also look frustratingly similar from the inside. You’re exhausted. Motivation disappears. Things you normally enjoy don’t sound appealing. Small responsibilities suddenly feel enormous. You don’t quite feel like yourself.

For me, burnout has usually followed a long stretch of trying to carry more stress than I realistically had capacity for.

And instead of recognizing that I was approaching my limit, I would do what a lot of us do:

Try harder.

Push through.

Drink more coffee.

Sleep less.

Tell myself I was being lazy.

Fall behind.

Feel guilty about falling behind.

Push even harder to catch up.

And eventually my brain would seemingly say:

Nope. We’re done here.

The best way I can describe it is mental safe mode.

Your computer boots into safe mode when something has gone wrong and it can’t keep operating normally.

It shuts down everything that isn’t absolutely necessary.

Burnout can feel a lot like that.

And once you get there, yelling at yourself to be more productive usually doesn’t fix it.

One thing I’m trying to get better at is noticing burnout before I’m completely buried in it.

For me, some warning signs are:

I start procrastinating on things I normally handle without much trouble.

Everything feels irritating.

I avoid texts, emails, and phone calls because responding feels like another obligation.

My attention span gets even worse than usual.

I stop doing things that normally recharge me.

Simple decisions start feeling weirdly difficult.

And I begin fantasizing about escaping my entire life rather than fixing whatever is actually overwhelming me.

That last one is usually a pretty good clue.

The problem is that we often treat those warning signs as evidence that we need to become more disciplined.

Sometimes they're evidence that we need less on our plate.

I don't have some perfect anti-burnout routine.

If I did, this newsletter would probably be coming to you from my beachfront villa while my personal assistant handled my calendar.

But a few things genuinely help me.

There are days when I can handle ten things.

There are days when three things feel like ten things.

That doesn't necessarily mean anything about my character.

Capacity changes.

Sleep matters.

Stress matters.

Life circumstances matter.

Your brain matters.

Instead of asking, "Why can't I handle this?" I'm trying to ask:

"What can I realistically handle today?"

That's a very different question.

I used to think rest was something you earned after everything was finished.

There is one small problem with that strategy:

Everything is never finished.

There will always be another email.

Another load of laundry.

Another bill.

Another work problem.

Another thing somebody needs from you.

If rest only happens when the list is empty, you may never rest.

Sometimes the healthier move is deliberately leaving something unfinished.

A lot of overwhelm comes from having fifty unfinished things floating around your brain at the same time.

Write them down.

Not necessarily because you're going to accomplish all fifty.

Just so your brain doesn't have to keep screaming:

DON'T FORGET THIS. DON'T FORGET THIS. DON'T FORGET THIS.

Then pick what actually matters today.

Not this month.

Not eventually.

Today.

If everything is urgent, eventually your brain stops believing any of it is.

Ask yourself:

What genuinely needs my attention right now?

Then:

What can wait?

Then the question I personally hate but frequently need:

What can I just…not do?

Sometimes removing something from the list is more useful than finding a better productivity system.

This is the harder part.

Because when you're already there, somebody handing you a twelve-step morning routine is probably the last thing you need.

You don't need another project called Recover From Burnout™.

You may need to make life smaller for a little while.

Handle the basics.

Eat something.

Drink some water.

Take the shower.

Sleep.

Step outside.

Cancel something that doesn't actually need to happen.

Ask somebody for help if you can.

And instead of asking yourself how to get back to performing at 100%, maybe ask:

What would make today 10% easier?

Ten percent is manageable.

Maybe it's ordering dinner instead of cooking.

Maybe it's putting your phone on Do Not Disturb for an hour.

Maybe it's telling someone, "I don't have the bandwidth for that right now."

Maybe it's making the appointment you've been putting off.

Maybe it's doing absolutely nothing productive tonight.

And if what you're experiencing feels deeper, persistent, or more like depression than ordinary exhaustion, talking with a qualified professional is worth considering. You don't have to figure out the difference by yourself.

So here's this week's reset.

Take two minutes and finish these three sentences:

The thing draining me most right now is __________.

Something I can temporarily let go of is __________.

One thing that would make this week 10% easier is __________.

That's it.

You do not need to reorganize your entire life tonight.

You don't need a new planner.

You don't need seventeen productivity apps.

And you definitely don't need to become an entirely different person by Monday morning.

Sometimes the first step out of burnout isn't doing more.

It's finally admitting that what you've been carrying is too much.

And giving yourself permission to put something down.

You may feel behind right now.

You may feel exhausted.

You may even feel like everybody else somehow got the instruction manual for adulthood and yours was lost in the mail.

But being tired doesn't mean you're finished.

Sometimes safe mode isn't the end of the machine.

It's the thing that keeps it running long enough to figure out what needs to change.

Take care of yourself this week.

Together, we rise.

Chris
Rock Bottom Rising