Burnout taught me a lesson I’ll never forget

Hi fam,

A few years ago, I hit a wall.

At the time, I was running multiple projects, chasing every opportunity, and telling myself I was doing it all for the right reasons. I thought, If I just push a little harder, everything will fall into place.

But it didn’t.

Instead, I found myself waking up every morning feeling completely drained. Simple tasks felt overwhelming. My creativity—the thing I’d always relied on—was gone.

I remember sitting at my desk, staring at my to-do list, realising I couldn’t do it anymore. It wasn’t just exhaustion. It was deeper than that. It felt like I had lost something fundamental—my drive, my sense of purpose, my ability to care about what I was doing.

At first, I felt guilty.

"Why do I feel like this?"
"Other people have it so much worse."
"I should be grateful."

And that’s the trap. We gaslight ourselves into believing we have no right to feel exhausted, no right to struggle, no right to pause. Because someone, somewhere, has it worse.

But burnout doesn’t care about your circumstances. It doesn’t care how many hours you’ve put in or how much you’ve sacrificed. It doesn’t care about the guilt you pile on top of it.

It happens when you keep giving until there’s nothing left. When you keep pushing, thinking you can outrun the exhaustion. When you believe that if you just achieve a little more, then maybe—just maybe—you’ll finally feel okay.

I convinced myself that rest was weakness. That slowing down meant falling behind. That if I just kept going, if I just worked harder, the emptiness would disappear.

But it never did.

Because burnout isn’t just about exhaustion. It’s about disconnection. From yourself, from your purpose, from the things that once made you feel alive.

When I finally slowed down, I started to see something else.

The burnout I had tried to push through? It wasn’t a random detour. It wasn’t a mistake. It was a course correction.

See, we think life throws us curve balls—unexpected events that knock us off track. But what if they’re not curve balls at all?

What if they’re actually steering us where we’re meant to go?

I used to believe I had control over everything. That if I just planned well enough, worked hard enough, and made the right moves, my path would be straight. But life doesn’t work like that.

It’s never a straight road. And honestly? It shouldn’t be.

The challenges, setbacks, and unexpected turns—they’re not roadblocks. They’re part of the road. They shape us in ways we need to be shaped.

Like Steve Jobs once said:

"You can’t connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backward."

At the time, burnout felt like failure. Like my body was betraying me. But looking back, I see it was a message—one I had ignored for too long.

Recovering from burnout wasn’t just about resting. It was about redefining success.

Here’s what I changed:

• I stopped tying my worth to my output. If I wasn’t “achieving,” I felt like I wasn’t enough. Now, I measure success differently—not by how much I do, but by how present I am.

• I built rest into my life, not as a reward, but as a requirement. If I don’t schedule it, I won’t take it.

• I learned to sit in stillness. Not just scrolling, not numbing myself with distractions. Just sitting, listening, reconnecting.

• I stopped seeing struggles as disruptions. They were never disruptions—they were redirections.

When I zoomed out, I realised:

Burnout wasn’t life working against me. It was life working for me.

A forced pause so I could finally hear what I had been ignoring. A nudge to slow down, to realign, to make actual progress instead of just chasing endless motion.

Because if you don’t stop, life will stop you.

If you’re feeling stretched thin right now, take a moment to pause. Ask yourself:

• Am I giving more than I can sustain?

• When was the last time I truly rested—not just physically, but mentally?

• What would happen if I slowed down—just for a moment?

• Am I ignoring signs that life is trying to redirect me?

Burnout isn’t a badge of honour. It’s not proof that you’re working hard enough. It’s your body screaming at you to stop, reflect, and reset. Listen to it before it forces you to.

Because if you don’t take the break you need, your body will take it for you.

Rest isn’t a reward. It’s a requirement.

And trust me—when you finally learn to prioritise it, you don’t just survive. You start to thrive.

It took me years to learn this lesson. But you don’t have to wait until you hit rock bottom.

Start today.

Cheers,
Markus