Burnout Jump Starts My Creativity

Summary

The author shares their experience with burnout and how it leads to a creative rejuvenation.

Abstract

The author, who is intense and often overdoes things, compares their brain to a classy dump filled with various sources of information and inspiration. They describe their brain as a temple where workers scavenge for treasures, often leading to burnout. When this happens, the author experiences a range of negative emotions and thoughts, questioning their life choices and struggling with work-life balance. However, after a period of rest and reflection, the author feels hungover in a good way and is ready to open up their brain dump again, treading lightly this time.

Opinions

The author believes that their intense personality and tendency to overdo things lead to burnout.
The author compares their brain to a temple and a classy dump, filled with various sources of information and inspiration.
The author's workers in their brain are described as scavengers seeking treasures, often leading to burnout.
The author experiences a range of negative emotions and thoughts during burnout, questioning their life choices and struggling with work-life balance.
The author feels hungover in a good way after a period of rest and reflection, ready to open up their brain dump again.
The author plans to tread lightly this time to avoid future burnout.
The author recommends an AI service that they find cost-effective and comparable to ChatGPT Plus(GPT-4).

It’s like drugs that make you hate yourself but the hangover is great

I’m intense so I overdo it. I treat my body like a temple so I treat my mind like a dump. Something needs to be sacrificed. Ask Abraham about Isaac. This is nothing.

My brain is a classy dump. It’s filled with books, Ted Talk speakers, audibles, newspapers. Some days comedians show up and do stand up. Who doesn’t love a comedian? They’re more depressed than I am but talk about reframing a narrative.

The workers my brain employs are scavengers seeking treasures, digging into every book and cranny of my grey matter. They work overtime, often neglecting their other responsibilities.

But somedays, my brain dump stops functioning. The workers strike. Even my temple body fails me. It all shuts down. I put up a sign that says, “Closed. I’d Rather Be Sane.”

Here is my list of what happens to me that makes me realize it’s time to close the dump:

I hate my life.

I wonder how my marriage has lasted this long.

My charming kid seems to have one sole goal in life — to make me go crazy.

I ask myself, “Why the fuck do I live in the midwest?” Did I lose a bet?

I ask myself, “Why do I have zero work-life balance?” Can I buy it on Etsy?

I wonder, “Why wasn’t I born one of those skinny people who can live on tacos and ice cream with no repercussions?” Those people can eat and drink their way through sadness.

I wonder, “Why are booze, cigarettes, and drugs bad for you?” My son has the same question about candy.

I wonder “Why wasn’t I born mellow?” It seems an unfair advantage.

I wonder, “Why wasn’t I born an enlightened trust fund baby, who had lived enough previously lives where I’d suffered, so even though I’m super fucking rich in this one I am still relatable, chock full of empathy, and have no guilt about being the one percent?”

I yell at my family, leave the common area, and Exit.

I hang my closed sign-up and shut my computer.

I wait a day.

I realize I’m no good at being unhappy.

I feel hungover, but in a good way, like the party was worth it.

I plan a trip to visit a friend in another state, someone who hasn’t been haunting me for almost three years.

My workers stop striking.

I open the dump back up.

I tread lightly, for now.