Column: When Being Burnt Out Feels so Right

WHEN BEING FEELS BURNT OUT so right

The realities of imposter syndrome for one used to working until the brink of burnt out. JOAN THYAGARAJAN cody editor

Stare at the wall. You are enveloped by the myriad assignments, applications and activities coursing through your mind. Look up at the ceiling. You can count sheep but the moment you close your eyes you are awake again. Open up your phone. You wonder how people

somehow manage to look like they have it all. Your mind hurtles ceaselessly forward and you beg yourself to take a break but you cannot because the idea of slowing down terrifies you. So, you continue to walk the edge pushing yourself farther and farther until you break. This is burnout.

Over the past four years, I have learned to live on the edge of being burnt out. It’s where I felt I belonged. I did not know how to live without the mass of stress that was so omnipresent it almost became comforting. That stress and exhaustion became an indicator that I was doing what I deemed enough, that I was pushing myself to what I now realize was an unhealthy limit.

It always felt so good to cry, and while crying releases oxytocin and endogenous opioids — endorphins made to make you feel better — that is not why I felt relief. Crying was a cathartic release that soothed the sharp pain of my anxiety, and, more importantly, it gave me a feeling of toxic pride. I had successfully pushed myself beyond my boundaries. I was proud that I had broken myself, and I would restitch myself together so that I could do it again.

As a senior, I have finally let my walls down and stopped walking on the edge. I let myself feel the exhaustion and embrace it. I felt catatonic, but despite how overwhelming the fatigue felt, it was familiar because a few months ago that feeling was what I had craved. I had not realized the severity of my burnout until I believed that I actually deserved to take a break. I had decimated my self-worth to the point where burnout was becoming fundamental to who I was, and I was afraid to let it go.

Now, as I try to leave this harmful lifestyle, I often feel as though a part of me is missing. My idea of happiness was warped into the temporary satisfaction I got when I had accomplished something. Without looming application deadlines or crucial standardized testing, it is not as easy to find.

The performance-based environment in many schools, especially in the Bay Area, enforces the quintessential American belief that if you work hard enough you can get anywhere, but it is incredibly easy to overdo it. The line between trying to become the next genius from Silicon Valley and driving yourself into the ground blurs easily.

Separating who I am from my accomplishments has been essential to creating a healthy dichotomy between my academic ambitions and my identity. I am the girl who loves autobiographies, sour gummy bears, 70’s sci-fi films and notebooks with fancy covers. I have learned to find the little things that make me happy, so that I can be happy with who I am.

I wonder how long this will work though. One of the most fundamental aspects of the human mind is that we will always want more. We acclimate to the new heights that we reach shockingly quickly and continue to look up at the stars, wondering how much farther we can go. It is how we have reached our current state with nearly eight billion of us and we are still growing. I wonder if I can be happy with myself. Maybe, burnout is the inevitable side-effect of running on the neverending treadmill to the unattainable success that our innate human greed makes us desperately yearn for. I am still trying to find the answer, but what I believe is that it is a constant push and pull. We will never stop trying to reach that next step, but in order to get there, we must take a step back and make sure that we have enough gas in the tank to go the whole nine yards

WHEN BEING BURNT OUT FEELS SO RIGHT JOAN THYAGARAJAN “ I HAD DECIMAT-

TED MY SELF WORTH

TO THE POINT WHERE

BURNOUT WAS BE-

COMING FUNDAMEN-

TAL TO WHO I WAS,

AND I WAS AFRAID TO

LET IT GO. ” JOAN THYAGARAJAN