The Sunday Letter: Burnout Edition
ways i managed my burnout this week
Hi, lovely readers —
Last week, I did a lot—pushed through, showed up, and ended Sunday with a quiet sense of victory. But this week, it caught up to me—the exhaustion settling in like an overdue bill, reminding me that rest isn’t optional. This week, I did less. Less posting, less curating, less showing up. Some of it was intentional—choosing to slow down before I fully hit a wall. Some of it wasn’t—fatigue creeping in, imposter syndrome whispering in the background, that familiar sense of running on empty. I’ve been circling around burnout for a while now, and instead of pushing through like I normally would, I let myself take a step back.
Someone told me that the fact that I showed up just to say I had nothing to offer (on my Instagram stories) made them see me more as a human than an “old, wise tree.” That woke something in me—this idea that showing up, in any form, is always better than not at all. The people who are meant to connect with you will find you, not because you’re polished or effortless, but because you’re real.
So this letter is a gentler one. More of a pause than a dispatch. If you need a moment to breathe, I hope this can be that for you—a small pocket of quiet.
How I Managed Burnout This Week
Not perfectly, but I tried. Here’s what helped:
Letting go of the pressure to “keep up.” I leaned on my husband more, especially on days I was physically sick to do much. I took two days off my full-time job, I posted much, much less on any of the platforms. I just…rested and daydreamed.
“You are not helpless. You are not heartless. And you have time. You have time to do work that brings you meaning, to be good to the people who love you, to find your way home to yourself. Use your time wisely.”
— Toni Morrison, from The Source of Self-Regard
Filling my space with things that offered comfort. Soft lighting in the evenings, my coziest sweater, a warm cup of tea, my journal, music. When was the last time I really listened to music? Months? Over a year? My husband made me a playlist of albums he thought I’d love, and it has opened up so many possibilities in me.
Doing something just for the sake of it. No agenda, no content plan—just reading, walking, or listening to music without thinking about what to make of it. This was so freeing — I didn’t need to record or document everything, I could just breathe.
Making peace with imperfection. Not every week needs to be productive, not every thought needs to be profound, and not every feeling needs to be fixed right away. Coming to terms with this was more forced than voluntary, but I will take it.
Slowing down, tuning in. Less scrolling, more noticing. Paying attention to small things—letting myself feel the weight of the moment instead of constantly reaching for the next.
Letting my body lead. Instead of forcing myself to power through like I usually do, I listened. I slept in when I needed to, moved slowly, ate when I was hungry, and didn’t fight the urge to just be still.
“Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes, including you. Stop. Rest. Breathe. Start again. Each day is a reset, a clean slate, and a chance to meet yourself exactly where you are. You don’t need to fix everything today. Some things will untangle themselves when you stop pulling so hard.”
— Anne Lamott, from Help, Thanks, Wow
Reaching out, even in small ways. A short conversation with my mom & dad, voice notes instead of a full conversation with friends, letting people know where I was mentally without feeling like I had to explain everything. Connection, even in its simplest form, helped.
Spending time offline. Less screen time, more time looking out the window, literally. The window beside my desk is my favorite place to daydream. Sitting with my thoughts instead of distracting myself from them.
Letting joy be easy. Watching my comfort show, Gilmore Girls, rereading old favorite book, Bluets, indulging in the things that felt good without overthinking whether they were “worth” my time.
Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No feeling is final.
— Rainer Maria Rilke, from Book of Hours
What I Let Go of This Week
This week, I didn’t...
Reply to every message right away. Some sat there unread, waiting, and that was okay.
Make a to-do list (or if I did, I ignored it). Letting the days unfold without a checklist felt strange but necessary.
Post just to keep up momentum. The world kept spinning without my daily curation, and I found relief in that.
Push through when my body told me to stop. I let myself be tired. I let myself be slow.
Search for meaning in everything. Some moments just were, and I let them be.
And the world didn’t end.
“Keep busy with survival. Imitate the trees. Learn to lose in order to recover, and remember that nothing stays the same for long, not even pain, psychic pain. Sit it out. Let it all pass.”
— May Sarton, from Journal of a Solitude
It’s funny how much pressure we put on ourselves to always be on—to show up, to respond, to create, to make sure we’re not fading into the background. But stepping back this week made me realize that I don’t disappear when I stop producing. I am still very much here, even in the quiet.
On Creativity & Rest
I keep relearning this: creativity needs space. It needs boredom, long stretches of nothingness, moments where my mind isn’t trying to shape an idea into something presentable. When I try to force it, it resists. But when I step back—when I let myself rest, daydream, let my mind wander—the ideas return, slowly, in their own time.
I think we forget that rest is part of the process, not separate from it. That time spent away from our work isn’t wasted time; it’s compost, letting everything settle and transform beneath the surface.
“Most good things come after a good break,” an old friend told me earlier this week, and it held so much meaning and space for me. There’s a different kind of creative energy that comes after stillness—the kind that isn’t about chasing inspiration, but letting it come to you. This week, I let myself trust that it would.
A Permission Slip for You
If you’ve also been feeling tired, consider this your permission slip to do less this week. To leave some things undone. To rest without guilt.
You don’t have to keep up. You don’t have to push through. The people who matter will still be here when you return.
Let yourself breathe.
I hope this letter meets you in a moment of stillness. And if not, I hope you can carve one out soon. Take what you need from this, leave the rest, and trust that you are enough—just as you are.
All my love,
-D
This came to me when I needed it the most. Really loved your take on how rest *is* part of the creative process
Thank you for the words!