Coping with Burnout and Being Enough

Choosing Stillness in a World That Never Stops

I want to talk about something that’s been quietly simmering beneath the surface for me, and for so many others I know, coping with burnout. It’s a word we hear all the time, yet it still feels heavy on the tongue, as though admitting to it is somehow a failure. But it’s not. It’s a very human response to the inhuman pace and pressures of the world we’re living in.

I’ve been moving through my own slow process with this lately. Stepping back, trying to reclaim a life that feels gentle and true, rather than one governed by relentless to do lists, algorithms, and the endless expectation to produce.

We live in a culture that glorifies busyness. We’re taught from early on to equate our worth with our productivity, our value with how much we give, how much we share, how much we do, how much we care. Social media amplifies this tenfold, it’s a constant invitation (or demand) to be visible, to be liked, to be validated by others. Even when we know it’s unhealthy, it’s hard to extricate ourselves from that subtle but powerful pull.

But at the start of this year I stepped away from social media completely. I haven’t posted or scrolled for months, and I cannot tell you how much lighter I feel for it. It has been such a relief to focus on my own life, instead of constantly peering into everyone else’s. I’ve realised just how draining it was to always be plugged into other people’s worlds, other people’s opinions, other people’s highlights. And it’s not just that I’ve stopped watching others, I’ve stopped sharing too.

I’ve been having some much needed quiet, private time, living my life without feeling like I have to turn every moment into something to share. We’re so conditioned to think everything that happens needs to be witnessed by others, that it somehow doesn’t count unless it’s out there for everyone to see. But all that filming, curating, posting, it takes time and energy that could be spent just being in my own life. And that doesn’t mean I won’t post again in the future. It just means I’m going to pace myself, honour what feels right, and trust that it’s perfectly okay to disappear for a while, or even never return.

Because while these platforms can be beautiful places of connection, inspiration, and community, they can also quietly erode our sense of enoughness. We’re bombarded with curated images of people’s best moments, the amazing cities they've visited, the radiant skin, the thriving careers, the constant creative output. No one is posting the afternoons lost in brain fog, the tears on the kitchen floor, or the emptiness that follows a flurry of external achievements.

It’s no wonder burnout is soaring. Studies in the UK show that nearly one in five people experience burnout symptoms, and that rises dramatically in sectors where people give a lot of themselves, teachers, health workers, creatives, carers. I suspect it’s even higher than reported, because so many of us simply press on, normalising the exhaustion. We tell ourselves we’re just a bit tired, we just need a holiday, we’ll feel better once we get through this next thing.

But what if that next thing is followed by another, and another? What if we never allow ourselves the radical act of stopping?

How I've Been Gently Navigating Burnout

In my own life, I’ve been learning to listen. Truly listen. Not to the clamour of the world or even my own conditioned patterns that whisper keep going, keep giving, but to something deeper, the quiet knowing inside me that says rest, breathe, recover, be still for a while.

I’ve been giving myself permission to:

Reclaim my time. I’ve stepped back from running so many workshops and retreats, recognising that while I love holding space for others, I also deeply need space for myself. It’s been uncomfortable at times, but there’s also been immense relief.

Protect my mornings. I’ve stopped diving straight into work or emails. Instead I wake earlier to give myself time to, stretch, read, journal, pull an oracle card and actually take the time to think about its meaning, or simply sitting with a cup of tea looking out at the trees.

Honour my body. Burnout isn’t just emotional, it’s physical. Our nervous systems get stuck on high alert. I’ve been focusing on movement, nourishing food, lots of water, walking and more time in nature.

Be present. Truly present. It sounds simple, but for someone who is often ten steps ahead, learning to be here, with this breath, this bird song, this brushstroke, is profound medicine.

A Few Thoughts if You're Feeling Burnt Out Too

If any of this resonates with you, know you’re not alone. I suspect many of us are quietly running on empty, still smiling, still functioning, still posting lovely photos, but inside longing for more spaciousness, more truth.

Here are a few gentle invitations:

Lower the bar. Truly. Let yourself do things at seventy percent or even forty. Let the house be messier (anyone who knows me knows I have to grit my teeth through this one), let the emails wait, the projects unfold more slowly. Let go of the need to do everything perfectly, or be perfect, or even look perfect. It all takes so much time and so much life force, chasing this illusion of perfection. What if good enough really was enough? What if you simply let yourself be, without all the striving?

Be discerning about your inputs. Social media can be inspiring, but it can also be deeply dysregulating. Notice how it makes you feel. Curate your feed. Take breaks. Remember the algorithms are designed to keep you hooked, not happy.

Reconnect to what nourishes you. Not what looks good from the outside, but what feels good inside your body and soul. A walk in the woods, an afternoon with friends, digging your hands into the earth, dancing around your kitchen, wild swimming or 20 lenghts at your local swimming pool. You know what nourishes you.

Let people know how you’re really doing. You don’t have to carry it alone. Naming it is powerful. It’s also a beautiful way to deepen connection, because I promise, someone else will say, me too.

And I want to say this, because I know not everyone has the luxury of time that I have right now. Maybe you’re working long hours, raising little ones, or somehow doing both at once. There was a time when I was a single parent working full time, so I understand how finding time, let alone making time, can feel almost impossible.

The idea of wandering off for a long walk or sitting quietly with a book might sound like something totally out of reach. This isn’t about needing hours of solitude or idyllic days spent in nature. It’s about discovering tiny pockets, wherever you can. A slow breath in the car before you pick up the kids. Three minutes standing outside just to really feel the air on your face. Letting the washing wait a little longer so you can lie on the sofa and stare at the ceiling. Putting your phone down for ten minutes and simply being with yourself with a cup of tea or glass of chilled wine. These small moments matter. They add up. They’re tiny acts of reclaiming your self. Gentle ways of saying, it’s safe to pause, it’s safe to take up space for you.

I’m still figuring this out myself. Unravelling decades of conditioning that said my value lies in what I produce, how I show up for others, how well I perform at life. Learning instead to trust that I am enough, simply because I exist, because I bring light by being who I am, not by how much I do.

Maybe that’s something you needed to hear today too.

Claire x