Manifesto on recovering from burnout

What I did when I felt like I was gasping for air

2024 was a defining year for my professional and academic life. Years of efforts compounded towards some milestone outcomes. A new job that I loved, an ambitious career pivot, joining a coveted global university for post graduation and performing well in the excellence-centric environment. My brother summed it up as “the year you killed it, Didi!”

However, this also meant that I overstretched myself to make the most of all that came my way. I finally had the opportunities I spent years waiting for; I was determined to leverage each and every one of them. In fact, I went out hunting for every possible avenue that I had access to, committed to let this phase be a stepping stone for even greater success in life.

This experience was about more than just education and career for an elder daughter from a middle-class Indian family who was studying on a student loan. Simultaneously, relocating to a new country and adjusting to a hyper independent life took its own toll. It was fulfilling for the most part and I even surprised myself with my metamorphosis.

But, when a parched self experiences a deluge, it can be both gratifying and overwhelming. The burnout was fast catching up and no matter how intense my hustle was, the hamster wheel had to stop soon. It particularly got to me by the time December began. For the external world I appeared to be thriving but internally my drowning self struggled to keep up. When others thought that I had it all together, my inner self was crumbling down.

Standing in the shower one day, I blurted out to myself - “Never have I ever experienced a fatigue this all-encompassing. I am fully spent. I have nothing more to give!” I felt the pain in my legs from the daily walking for classes and chores. My hands felt rough from the endless cooking and dishes cleaning. My head felt dizzy with an expanding to-do list of logistics and admin work. My mind howled at the lack of sleep. My brain was giving up from juggling academics and extra curricular pursuits. My mind was exhausted from copious rounds of socialising and networking.

I got out of the shower, knowing that this had to stop. I lied down on the bed, beginning to count days till the end of the term. Every time I felt like I was running out of breath, I would look out of the window, hoping that I would get some air soon enough. Till then, I got by, powering through the days somehow.

Now, after a month of holidays, as I welcome 2025, the long recovery period feels nourishing. Here’s my manifesto for recovering from burnout, one that wrote itself as I spontaneously went about my holidays with the intention of refilling my cup.

• I started walking slowly. I was no more on the clock, I kept telling myself. I had no where to reach. I instructed my pacing feet to slow down. It took more effort to slow down than to pace up, I realised.

• I paused to take deep breaths. After gasping for air in the past, I wanted to fill up my lungs with every breath and feel every bit of it as I exhaled.

• I gave myself nothingness days. After months of trying to do everything, I needed to do nothing religiously.

• I went out a lot. I stayed in a lot. I cancelled plans that I had made. I did things impromptu. I let my heart have the final word. My head had reined in enough.

• I made myself a cup of chai every day. I ditched coffee. I banned “coffee-on-the-go”. I would reason with myself. I don’t need energy in the holidays. I don’t need to run around. I needed to sit still. I needed the sukoon of sipping on to my adrak wali chai while listening to Coke Studio music.

• I coloured in a colouring book. I let colours consume me, enjoying the patterns and shapes it filled up.

  

• I worked with focus on days of bursts of energy. I didn’t touch my laptop on other days. I learnt to be okay with both.

• I stopped opening my to-do list in my notes app. A good or bad day was to no more to be evaluated by the numbers of tasks I ticked off in my list. My feelings were my only guide to the day.

• I spent my holidays in London at a friend’s place, intermittently spending time with her family and cat-sitting for them when they were away. There were friends I had to catch up with in the city, and places I had to explore like a tourist. This filled up my days beautifully with good company and soothing solitude.

• I spent hours on video calls with family. Some times to chat and some times to passively be around them. No-agenda-presence, as if I was at home, became a ritual after months of catching-up calls.

• Coffee dates with friends. Solo-dates with myself. I let it all fill up my heart and nourish my soul.

  

  

• I deleted instagram from my phone. I laughingly told my friends, “This is a silly social media detox, an existential crisis of a millennial” And so, now, my life didn’t need to be converted into aesthetic snapshots. My day didn’t need to be punctuated by chats with acquaintances I wouldn’t speak to if it wasn’t for the app. My mind didn’t need to be cluttered with inconsequential details about random people’s life.

• I took a lot of naps. I would nap on the couch sometimes. I told my body that this is my hibernation time so no routine can come in the way.

• I laughed. A lot. I soaked in all the happiness, even that which seemed frivolous.

• I cried. A lot. I let it all out, even that which I could not make sense of.

• Whenever I felt that it is taking too long, I would say to myself - “one more slow day, for myself!”

• I made wholesome meals for myself. After weeks of skipping breakfasts and somehow catching up with meals, I decided to treat food and my eating time as sacred.

  

• I began reading a novel that seemed exciting. I left it after the first chapter, even though I was enjoying it. This was to tell myself that I don’t need to finish everything that I begin. Hobbies are a stress-free zone where I don’t need to prove my work ethic to myself.

• I wrote. Mostly for myself and not for any other portal. It was journaling to de-clutter the mind.

• I stopped checking my emails regularly. Nothing was urgent enough to interfere with my restful days.

• I listened to music on repeat. It decorated my time beautifully.

  

• I spent hours sending long voice notes to friends. I listened to their voice notes diligently, responding to every minute detail of their day and every fleeting feeling in their heart. After missing out on major moments of their lives, I decided to be there through it all.

• I spent time with my friend’s cat and became friends with him. His company healed me in ways I can’t articulate. We would both be in the same room, doing our own thing and I would admire his sense of independence. His morning routine was my meditation. Assembling his meal, cleaning his litter, our play time and his walk - it all anchored my days. Observing him stop to smell the flowers or be amused by a tree reminded me to pause and look around. I stayed entertained by his glorious self jumping around the room, like watching a captivating circus.

  

• I turned to the nostalgic comfort of old hindi films. I did marathon runs and discussed them with friends.

• After some structural planning on tasks and timelines, I gave myself the permission to procrastinate worrying about my submissions till January. I wanted to enjoy my work after recovery and not struggle with it during an extended burnout. I reminded myself that I willingly came back to education to pursue a subject I loved; I must not turn it into a chore.

• Watching a film, experiencing theatre and witnessing a play — I turned to art when the soul needed it the most.

  

• I stopped responding promptly to messages. Hyper-connectivity had drained me. I turned to slow replies for only when I was ready to engage with others.

• I explored a new city, as both a temporary resident and a transient traveller. I immersed myself in the delight of developing a relationship with a new city. So, now, London has my heart.

  

  

• I let others cook for me and relished every bite. Meeting friends and acquaintances for meals and endless conversations made my heart and tummy feel full. I enjoyed the feeling of having overdone it. I stopped being restrained and measured.

• I went out for aimless strolls. The pure joy of walks slowly returned.

  

  

• I observed people on the tube. I pointlessly let my mind wander. Not every thought needed to turn into something productive.

• I turned to the yoga mat to let my body breath. No weight loss. No fitness goals. Only to stretch or to do some yoga that would let me feel every fibre of my being. I would get up, expressing gratitude to my body that supported me through days when it would rather collapse under the weight of my ambitions. I prioritised my well-being over everything else.

• I reminded myself that not every waking minute had to be about becoming better. I gave myself the permission to just be.

I kept slowing down until the day I willingly wanted to pace up. I stopped working until the day I excitedly turned to my laptop, ready to work. I kept resting until the day every part of me was bustling with energy, wanting a release. I kept doing things aimlessly until the day I wanted to pursue my aims and goals with passion again. I kept taking it easy until the day I wanted to go at it with focus and intensity. I kept feeling all the complicated emotions until the day I was feeling like my truer self. I kept nourishing myself through the hibernation until the day I felt like my blooming self again.

Recovering from burnout required a lot of kindness to myself (and even more privilege), but I got here slowly. I filled up my cup, ready to resume life again. But it taught me important lessons.

The next time things begin to feel like a bit too much, I will not wait till every ounce of me is spent, to take care of myself. The intention is to run a sustained marathon and not a succession of quick sprints. My ambitions exist only if my well-being is preserved. My responsibilities will be fulfilled only if my inner self is nourished. My aspirations can be passionately pursued only if my rhythm is self-paced.

I am ready for the next chapter of life with my eyes shining bright yet again.

Let this be a reminder for you too, dear reader, to prioritise yourself when life begins to take over.