What Burnout Took From Me - And What It Gave Me in Return

How a 12-week leave from work has changed my views on life

3 months ago, I took a leave of absence from work because I was burnt out.

Before going through it myself, I thought burnout was mostly a psychological issue that manifests in feeling overwhelmed or unmotivated. I didn’t realize how deeply it could affect the body. In the week leading up to my leave, I found myself crying at random moments throughout the day. I couldn’t sleep. My mind was racing with anxious thoughts, and sometimes the emotions were so intense it felt like anger and sadness were physically pouring out of me in the form of tears. My body was sending a clear message: something was deeply wrong, and I couldn’t keep going like this.

Each morning, I woke up with a sense of dread. Work felt completely meaningless, like I was performing for a scorecard that no longer made sense. I felt hollow and empty, like a shell moving through the day and completing tasks without connection or purpose.

I was anxious about taking time off. But the moment I closed my laptop on that first day, I felt an overwhelming sense of relief. No more Slack pings or looming deadlines. The noises in my brain finally died down and I could breathe again.

self portrait and sketches during the worst of my burnout

Eat, sleep, and breathe

My recovery started with the most basic things: getting enough sleep, exercising regularly, and cooking meals without feeling I was on a time crunch. Just having the space to grocery shop and make food without a sense of urgency felt like a gift.

It’s wild how easily we abandon our basic human needs when we’re under stress. Rest, movement, and nourishment should be the foundation of our lives - not things we squeeze in once everything else is done. What’s the point of life if we’re constantly rushing to the next goalpost but forgetting to slow down and savor the present? Humans are not built to be machines, and we shouldn’t be measured by our output or productivity.

Looking back, the warning signs were already there. I was constantly getting sick and felt irritable and drained in my daily life. I was a worse version of myself, running on empty and pouring energy into the wrong places.

Conversations with my therapist helped me understand the roots of my burnout. I had spent too long in an environment where I was performing a version of myself that didn’t align with my values. The disconnect chipped away at me, taking a toll on my physical and mental health. It became clear to me that my wellbeing is more valuable than any title or paycheck.

Adding color back into my life

Once I had space to breathe, I started reading again. I finally picked up The Artist’s Way, a book that had been sitting on my list for months. I began writing Morning Pages every day, documenting my stream-of-consciousness thoughts to clear mental clutter and tap into my creative self.

Journaling has always been a refuge for me during difficult times. Morning Pages offered a new kind of reflection, one rooted in curiosity and creativity. It gave me a sense of freedom, not just to process my thoughts, but to create without judgment.

I noticed a shift almost immediately. Page after page, my sketchbook was filling up with a momentum I’ve never felt before. First in black and white, then in color. I started painting again - sometimes just adding splashes of watercolor to my journal pages, but it was enough. I was creating for the joy of it and not for any outcome.

adding colors to my sketchbook

I made cool things and spent time in nature

I made a conscious effort to just play and do things I’ve always wanted to try. I signed up for sewing and DIY workshops at my local library’s makerspace. I started this Substack to write for myself again, something I hadn’t done in years. I made art with one intention: to enjoy the process, not worry about the outcome.

Funny enough, the work I end up liking most is always the one I started without any expectations. On the other hand, I can always tell when perfectionism creeps in - the result is either overworked or too rigid, the tension from my hands leaving its marks on the final product. I was making art, but what I was really learning was how to live.

some of the things I made at the library: keychain made out of scrap fabric, laser cut bookmark, sewing machine practice sheet, botanical printed bandana

My leave also coincided with my move from the Bay Area to Seattle, which gave me a chance to explore, settle into a new environment, and reconnect with old friends. We went on a day trip to Skagit Valley, where fields of blooming tulips in every color imaginable stretched in all directions. I biked for the first time in six years, soaking in the vast greenery and blue sky along the Sammamish River Trail. I perused REI and started adding pops of color to my wardrobe, which used to only contain muted neutrals. The change of scenery helped me reset, and I felt a new version of me slowly coming back to life.

spending time in nature to heal

Grounded in family and community

After stepping away from work, I realized how much I needed to reconnect with something tangible and meaningful. I started volunteering at a women’s shelter to feel connected to the community in a more direct, human way. I organized and sorted clothes and makeup at the donation center. I helped set up tables for a community brunch for the women in shelter. The work almost felt meditative - my body was busy moving, but my mind felt calm and at ease.

The sheer volume of donations at the shelter was eye-opening. I was already aware of how much waste our culture of hyper-consumerism creates, but seeing it firsthand was disheartening. As I stood in front of the piles of discarded items - many destined for the landfill - I was reminded that true abundance doesn’t come from having more, but from knowing what is enough.

setting up community brunch for women in shelter

Toward the end of my leave, my dad visited from Taiwan. We wandered through our new neighborhood, shared bowls of chowder at Pike Place Market, and gawked at the fishmongers hurling giant fish through the air. We picked out new clothes for him at Bellevue Square, and spent a quiet afternoon brewing Pu’er tea together, watching the steam curl between us.

I felt immense gratitude - spending those days with him fully present and without distractions was something we’ve rarely been able to do since I was 12, because we live an ocean apart. I’m thankful my leave ended on such a grounded note, and it served as another reminder of how I want to live my life.

It took me 12 weeks to recover from burnout. But in the process of healing, I gained something more valuable and came back with a renewed sense of clarity and purpose for what lies ahead. Burnout taught me to slow down and go back to the basics; that what matters most is often simple and already within us - not something we need to chase after.

---