When the Fog Rolls In: A Gentle Guide to Burnout
The Snickers Bar Epiphany: When Burnout Arrives Softly
It started somewhere between the fourth code blue of the night and the moment I realized I hadn’t eaten since my shift started 14 hours earlier. I was standing in the ICU med room, holding a syringe in one hand and a Snickers bar in the other, staring blankly at the cabinets like they might whisper the meaning of life back to me.
I wasn’t sad, exactly.
I wasn’t angry.
I was just... foggy. Like someone had dimmed the lights inside my brain and left me running on autopilot.
If you’ve felt like you’re moving through mist—emotionally fogged-in, distant, and disconnected—you may be in the quiet grip of burnout. It’s not loud or dramatic. It drifts in slowly, like low clouds rolling over a familiar path, obscuring your sense of direction.
This post isn’t about fixing anything. It’s a softly glowing lantern for the journey back to yourself.
Burnout: When the Landscape Disappears
Burnout is more than stress. It’s a full-body fog: mental, emotional, and physical exhaustion that settles in when you’ve been giving more than you’ve been receiving—whether from work, caregiving, school, or just being a human in 2025.
And there’s science behind the mist.
Chronic stress can overstimulate the HPA-axis (that’s the hypothalamic-pituitary-adrenal system), which is like the thermostat for your stress response.
When it’s always on, your system overheats.
Cortisol levels spike or crash, your nervous system goes haywire, and your brain starts misfiring the “we’re okay” signals. This dysregulation can even lead to treatment-resistant depression.
You might feel:
Emotionally numb or chronically overstimulated
Tired but wired (and also weirdly forgetful)
Irritated by sounds, smells, or even your beloved dog breathing too loud (Roxanne, I’m looking at you)
Like you’re failing at everything, even though you’re doing your best
Like your life is still happening but you’re not in it
Navigating the Fog: You Don’t Need Fixing, Just Rest
Burnout doesn’t mean you’re broken.
It means you’ve been surviving a storm with too little shelter. And maybe, somewhere in the thick of things, you forgot you deserve to rest.
Here’s how to start clearing the fog, one breath at a time:
Practice Regulated Presence
Sometimes, calming your nervous system is less about grand rituals and more about tiny, magical moments—like breathing in the rhythm of a sleepy dragon and petting a dog who clearly knows more about peace than any textbook ever could.
Enter: 4-7-8 breathing.
It’s like casting a gentle spell on your brain. Inhale for 4 counts (gathering calm), hold for 7 (letting it steep like a good cup of tea), and exhale for 8 (releasing what no longer serves you—like stress, or that email you reread 12 times). This simple pattern taps into your parasympathetic nervous system—aka the “rest and digest” crew—letting your body know it’s safe to soften.
Now add Roxanne.
She’s not just a dog. She’s a furry, four-legged nervous system whisperer. As your hand runs over her velvety ears and rhythmic breathing syncs with hers, your body remembers what regulation feels like. Heart rate slows. Muscles unclench. Cortisol tiptoes away. Science calls it co-regulation. Roxanne calls it being awesome.
Together, these small acts create something powerful: a pocket of peace. A moment of safety. A reset button, pressed gently with a breath... and a wagging tail.
Stay Curious, Not Critical
“What’s this moment asking of me?” instead of “What’s wrong with me?”
Validate Yourself Like You Would Your Friend
You wouldn’t tell your friend to stop being dramatic for needing a nap, right?
Allow for Silence and Slowness
In a world that often feels like it’s running late to its own meeting, choosing silence and slowness is a bit like stepping off a high-speed train and wandering into a mossy forest where time stretches and sighs.
Silence is not empty—it’s spacious.
When you let yourself sit quietly, even for a minute, it’s like giving your brain a hammock. The constant mental chatter gets a moment to exhale. The to-do list stops tap-dancing on your frontal lobe. Without all the noise, your nervous system begins to soften, shifting from high alert (hello, burnout) to something gentler, like a cat stretching in a patch of sun.
Slowness is not laziness—it’s wisdom.
Moving slower lets your body and mind catch up to each other. It’s a subtle reunion of sorts. Burnout thrives in overdrive, in schedules stacked like teetering Jenga towers. But when you walk instead of sprint—or sip tea without also checking six tabs—your cortisol levels drop. Your breath deepens. Your body remembers it’s safe to exist without performing.
Sometimes the most productive thing you can do is pause. Listen to the quiet. Let a thought finish forming. Let your nervous system reset in the rhythm of a slower moment.
So if all you do today is stare out the window, or stir honey into your coffee with the reverence of a wizard crafting a potion—know that you’re healing. Burnout doesn’t like silence because silence reminds us: we’re human beings, not machines.
Follow the Joy Crumbs. They Know the Way Back
Burnout recovery doesn’t usually begin with fireworks or grand life overhauls. More often, it starts with something small and glittery—a single “joy crumb” on an otherwise ordinary day.
Maybe it’s the way your coffee smells extra cozy this morning.
Or the lopsided smile your dog gives when she’s dreaming.
Maybe it’s remembering the lyrics to a silly childhood song or finding a sock that somehow does have its match.
These little bits of gladness are like breadcrumbs through the forest. No, they won’t carry you across the burnout bog in one leap—but they will remind you there’s still sweetness in the world, even when your spark feels soggy.
Joy crumbs are small on purpose. They’re quiet. Gentle. Not one more thing to chase or perfect—just something to notice, to feel, to let land. They help retrain your brain (and your heart) to tune in to life again, not just survival. Over time, the crumbs add up. The forest thins. The path glimmers. You start to feel… more you.
Even just a single giggle-snort at a weird meme, or that strange satisfaction of peeling an orange in one perfect spiral—that counts. That’s a joy crumb. That’s medicine.
You don’t have to start by laughing until you just about pee yourself. Just keep an eye out for the crumbs.
Pick them up as you go.
Let them feed the parts of you that forgot what light feels like.
Even in burnout, you are still capable of delight. Even now, you’re allowed to feel good, even for a moment.
Let those crumbs lead the way home.
Burnout with Limited Support? You’re Not Alone.
Let’s be real. If you’re a single mom, college student, unpartnered adult, or living paycheck to paycheck, rest isn’t just hard—it can feel like a luxury. Self-care advice can feel... out of touch.
Recovery doesn’t require retreats or hour-long meditations. It can look like:
2-minute micro-resets: Inhale. Exhale. Pet a dog. Repeat.
Letting “good enough” be good enough: Laundry mountain? Everest can wait.
Designing a bare minimum routine: Think “survival mode, but cozy.”
Asking for help in specific, tangible ways
Finding humor in the chaos: Like how Cosmos manages to nap like royalty while my husband is budgeting down to the last lentil.
You’re not failing. You’re navigating fog without a lighthouse—and still finding your way.
When It’s Time to Move On: Making a Map Before You Leap
Sometimes burnout is a sign that a part of your life no longer fits—like trying to hike in boots two sizes too small. The job, the routine, the environment—it might be time to release what no longer serves you.
Burnout isn’t just about being busy. Sometimes, it’s your nervous system sending signals that a situation has become unsustainable. When we stay too long in spaces that are chronically stressful, invalidating, or misaligned with our needs, the body can respond as if we’re living in a danger zone—even if nothing dramatic is happening.
Let’s explore the quiet indicators it might be time to let go… gently, thoughtfully, and maybe with a snack.
Persistent Fog
Long-term stress—especially if it’s unprocessed—keeps the hypothalamic-pituitary-adrenal (HPA) axis activated. This disrupts cortisol rhythms, sleep cycles, and mood regulation. The result? Brain fog, fatigue, and emotional numbness. You’re showing up, but you’re not present. Simple decisions feel monumental. You’ve forgotten the point of… everything.
Maybe you’ve re-read the same email 6 times. It still makes no sense.
Your cat is giving you side-eye. Again.
You're in a Constant State of "Fawn"
Staying in unhealthy environments too long—especially if you've experienced trauma—can trigger fawning: a trauma response where we people-please or overperform to avoid conflict or rejection. Over time, this leads to self-neglect. You say “yes” when your body screams “no.” You feel invisible, even when praised. You're tired of smiling.
You’re essentially a very polite ghost.
Joy Becomes Inaccessible
Chronic stress reduces dopamine and serotonin, two key neurotransmitters that influence mood, motivation, and pleasure. Burnout can mimic or exacerbate depression—especially for those with trauma, ADHD, or sensory sensitivities. Nothing sounds fun anymore. You don’t remember what rest feels like. You're emotionally flatlined.
Your plants are thriving. You are not. Even your cupcake tastes like despair.
Your Nervous System Reacts Like It’s Under Siege
Environments that once felt safe can start triggering fight, flight, freeze, or fawn responses. This means elevated heart rate, irritability, digestive issues, insomnia, or emotional shutdown. Your body is waving red flags. Tension is your default. You dread the morning alarm. You feel stuck—frozen, even—despite knowing something needs to change.
The sound of a text, Teams, Slack, email (whatever) notification sends you into an existential spiral. Roxanne barks, and you jump like it’s a fire drill.
You Keep Waiting for “It” to Get Better... and It Doesn’t
Hope is a beautiful coping mechanism—but in toxic or misaligned environments, it can become a trap. If you're constantly "waiting it out," your nervous system stays in hypervigilance, hoping for change that isn’t coming. You're endlessly “almost there.” You rationalize, minimize, or distract. But deep down, you feel like you’re betraying yourself.
You’ve renamed your inbox “The Void.” Your affirmations are just sighs now.
Here’s where we gently shift from fog-walking to path-making. You are not broken. You’re responding—wisely—to chronic misalignment. Moving on doesn’t mean failure. It means listening to your body’s signals.
But before you leap, make a map.
Soft Exit Plan Template
Step 1 Name the problem- What is stealing your spark?
“This job/role/relationship is draining my life.”
Step 2 Define your needs - Financial, emotional, social, spiritual—what supports would help you land softer?
Emotional safety? Flexibility? More support?
Step 3 Brainstorm options- Even wild ones. Yes, dog-walking in Tuscany counts.
Step 4 Create a timeline- When can change realistically happen?
Revisit your plan weekly. Celebrate progress. Pet your dog.
Step 5 Build a cushion- Even a small one. Resources, connections, coping strategies.
Set more money aside in savings, search for job openings, invest in certifications or continuing education, lean on supportive friends, find a mental health provider.
Step 6 Create Micro-Steps- Honor what’s ending. Prepare for what’s next.
Tiny actions count: update a resume, make one phone call, set a boundary.
Sometimes, we stay in places that dim our light because we were taught to endure. But healing asks for something different—discernment, not just resilience.
Even fog lifts, eventually. And when it does, the view is often clearer than we imagined.
Final Thoughts
Burnout dims the world—but it doesn’t erase who you are. That spark? It’s still there, under the clouds.
You don’t need to hustle your way back.
You can sip your tea.
Let the dogs snore at your feet. Breathe. Be. Begin again, softly.
And when the fog rolls in? Let it. Light your lantern. Trust your steps.
You’ve got this.