I no longer worship at the alter of the hustle.

You don’t notice the unraveling until you’re fully undone.

Not just tired. Not just stressed. I’m talking about the can’t-reel-your-own-face kind of burnout. The kind where your body becomes a hostile work environment—and you’re the employer.

I used to ignore the whispers: the afternoon headaches, the skipped meals, the wired-but-exhausted nights. I wore my productivity like a badge of honor, even when my body was waving the white flag. Until one project pushed me over the edge.

The Campaign That Broke Me

I was soloing a full-blown integrated campaign for a health insurance company (yes, the irony is rich). Think: billboards, OTT, radio, display, social, print — the works. Except there was no team. Just me.

I was grinding from 5:00AM until 2:00AM the next morning most days, barely eating, living on caffeine and the stress of impossible expectations. I was doing the work of five people, fast and flawlessly, until I couldn’t anymore. My brain? Fried. My body? Done. My emotions? Shot.

The day after I delivered, I crashed. And burned. Not with some cute “I need a spa day” energy—I’m talking naps at my desk, full-body shutdown, staring-into-space-for-hours kind of collapse. I remember thinking: I’ve completely lost touch with my body—and maybe my sanity.

The Disconnect that Lasted Years

Here’s the part that people don’t talk about: burnout doesn’t disappear when you finally sleep in or take a weekend off. My burnout lingered long after the project wrapped.

I wasn’t just exhausted—I was disembodied. I didn’t feel like a person anymore. Just a brain in a jar, trying to answer emails and design on autopilot.

And when I say I took three years to reconnect with myself — I’m not kidding.

THREE. F*CKING. YEARS.

Years to notice hunger cues again, to feel rested after sleep, to stop chugging coffee just to feel alive. To move my body because I wanted to, not because I thought I “should.”

I had to rebuild my relationship with work and with my body, and that meant doing a lot of unlearning.

The New Rules I Work By

I no longer worship at the alter of the hustle. I don’t equate value with output. I don’t book back-to-back projects just to prove I’m worthy.

Here’s what I do instead:

• Sleep comes first. If I’m not rested, nothing else gets my energy.

• Caffeine is a tool, not a crutch. I cut back, hard.

• Sunlight matters. Even if it’s just standing barefoot on my porch for 5 minutes.

• Stress isn’t a status symbol. I actively seek peace of chaos.

• Nutrition isn’t optional. I eat to support my body like it’s the asset it is.

My entire creative process shifted once I started treating myself like an actual human—not a design robot.

The Real Work is Internal

If you’re in a cycle of creative burnout, I see you.

If you’re ignoring the signs—becuase the client needs this, because your calendar is booked, because rest feels like a failure—I’ve been you.

Hear this: You can’t create your best work from a body that’s constantly in survival mode. You brain needs your body. Your creativity requires your well-being.

This isn’t about quitting your job or becoming some perfectly “balanced” person. This is about learning to listen when your body whispers so it doesn’t have to scream.

Put your oxygen mask on first. Your work will thank you for it. But more importantly? You will.