A Slow Recovery From Creative Burnout

A journal entry I jotted down while on my 15-minute break two years ago:

“I still feel depleted in my bones, lungs and soul after drinking an entire pot of coffee. I yearn to create like I once did many moons ago – immersed in creative flow, existing in a dimension where time doesn’t exist. I long to create without distractions, which is almost impossible as a dopamine-deficient creative in the modern age.”

It’s challenging to define creativity as it is unique to each individual. However, I’ve always thought myself to be a creative person, expressing myself through drawing, painting, and most significantly, writing. Growing up, I wrote diary entries, untangling inner turmoil, unknowingly using writing to manage my depression. Throughout high school, I explored many forms of writing, but found personal essays the most fulfilling. I enjoy writing narratives as a stream of consciousness: an ode to the journal entries and angsty poetry my younger self wrote in an era where she felt deeply misunderstood and alone. When I went to university, I decided to turn my passion into a profession and started working as a freelance writer. But the work I expected to love quickly became a struggle. All of the deadlines and expectations of being a student led to symptoms of burnout. Self-doubt haunted my psyche and I found it increasingly difficult to be creative and to prioritize rest. 

After graduation, I finally had the time to pause and enjoy the simplicity of a cafe job while continuing my freelance writing gig. I look back fondly on my days of waking up before sunrise to bike to the cafe and greet the day enveloped by the scent of freshly baked cinnamon buns. I took pleasure in the morning rush, tamping espresso grounds, pouring espresso, frothing milk and pouring it high and slow, then low and fast to create art. Unfortunately, the simple life didn’t last. I felt immense pressure from my immigrant parents to pursue a career outside of customer service, and I eventually caved to it.

I promised my younger self I would never succumb to the pressure of joining the rat race. I wanted a career that would align with my values, not one based on wealth, fame or status. I am not a sellout, but a rebel who refuses to sacrifice my integrity to work an underpaid office job for a corporation that will ultimately exploit me. So, I accepted an alternative: precarious employment as a contractor within the non-profit industrial complex. The burnout I felt during my undergrad returned and became progressively worse. I felt mentally exhausted, unable to focus and devoid of motivation for activities that once brought me joy. 

According to psychologist Nine Gramberg, it takes, on average, three months to a year to recover from burnout. I’m familiar with the ebbs and flows of recovery. As an addict in recovery, I know what it’s like to surrender and accept that you can no longer consume a substance. But the process of recovery from chronic exhaustion feels different because I am not learning how to abstain but rather making changes to do things that I once enjoyed. I’m still fighting the shame I feel about how burnout has impacted my ability to show up for my inner creative.

It has been three years since I first acknowledged my burnout and I’m finally seeing myself get my groove back. At the start of 2023, I quit all my gigs to enroll in full-time schooling to learn graphic and web design. Being able to focus on learning new skills and playing with programs I would have never explored otherwise has done wonders for my creativity. I’ve also spent more time with friends who have shown me that it’s okay to pause and step away from things that no longer nourish my creative spirit. This program is an intensive one with daily deadlines, and even though I feel that familiar student stress once again, it feels rewarding to sit in front of my computer with the intention to create. Of course, learning new skills requires patience and comes with some frustration, but I can already feel the payoff of the changes I’ve made to replenish my spirit. I know with time that I will once again be fully immersed in creative flow.

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Prioritizing Platonic Relationships in a Culture of Loneliness