Chapter 1: The Reality of Burnout

I’ve often prided myself on being that enthusiastic person who thought burnout was a myth. My ADHD likely contributes to this. When I’m engaged, I’m all in. My background as an entrepreneur and amateur MMA fighter infused my writing journey with a relentless drive.

There were times I would write until dawn, pouring my thoughts onto the page until the morning light signaled it was time for rest. During the frantic final stages of my first novel, I sacrificed sleep entirely, fueled by coffee as I churned out an astonishing sixteen thousand words in just one night.

Now, however, I’m confronting the consequences of that intensity.

Life has taken a strange turn lately. I recently transitioned from running my business to pursuing writing full-time. Unfortunately, my writing doesn’t yet provide enough income to support me fully, so I’ve taken a job.

To clarify, I genuinely enjoy my job as a martial arts instructor for the Singaporean Army during the day, while at night, I craft stories by the glow of my laptop. It’s a good balance, yet the demands can be exhausting.

Teaching in the sweltering tropical heat and then returning home to meticulously create stories can certainly be physically draining, but the real fatigue stems from the mental strain of writing.

The writing profession can play tricks on even the strongest minds. In my fighting days, I had a tendency to overtrain, always striving to excel in every endeavor. It feels uncomfortable to enter a space without knowing if I can excel, whether physically or metaphorically. This is a peculiar vulnerability I’m working on.

Thus, I trained rigorously, grappling, sparring, and lifting until my body screamed for relief. Yet, in fighting, physical limits exist. Your body eventually can’t keep pace with your mind's demands. However, writing lacks such boundaries, allowing me to pour my energy into it night after night, only to hit wall after wall.

My latest challenge arose just last week when I wrote fourteen poems in one night. I didn’t rest; I simply transitioned from my laptop to work. While it was a grueling experience, the most troubling aspect was that I was accustomed to it. "This is the price of success," I reassured myself—a mantra that had previously driven me to excel in martial arts.

Ironically, this very mindset enabled me to produce numerous stories in the first quarter of the year, generating significant income. Yet, my mind finally seemed to reach a breaking point.

After that marathon writing session, I returned home and experienced an unsettling sleep. Despite my exhaustion, I kept waking up, feeling more drained than before. This was unusual for me. I attributed it to a rough night and sat down to write again.

But I found I couldn't.

I physically couldn't muster the creative energy. Strangely, I could still send texts and emails, but the creative flow was blocked. It felt as if I had exhausted my creative reserves, and my brain needed time to recover.

Initially, I was devastated, overcome with anxiety. "Writing is my life," I thought. "It's my career, my purpose." Those thoughts spiraled in my mind until I managed to regain my composure and view the situation more rationally.

Writing cannot be the sole focus of existence, nor can anything else. When I had to step back from martial arts due to injuries, I felt a profound loss, as if a part of me was gone. I’ve felt similar heartache from past relationships. Yet, life continues. New opportunities arise, and new connections can be forged. It is far better to have experienced love and loss than to have never ventured at all.

With this in mind, I let go. I accepted that I might never write again. While I wasn't thrilled about this prospect, I found peace in it. Ironically, it was only after I embraced this uncertainty that I found my ability to write returning. This essay is a testament to that healing process and the lessons learned from burnout.

The first crucial lesson is that burnout is a tangible reality. I thought I could manage a twelve-hour workday followed by several hours of writing, but I’ve realized that's unsustainable. No one can maintain such a pace over the long term. Writing, like any worthwhile pursuit, is a marathon, not a sprint.

This doesn't mean one should be lazy. There’s a delicate balance between productivity and stagnation. My point is that if it takes you five years instead of four to achieve your writing goals, it’s not a significant difference in the grand scheme. Take the time to enjoy the journey.

Taking my own advice, I’ve rekindled my passion for gaming. I was once an avid gamer, but I stopped because I believed it was detracting from my writing. In hindsight, it was.

Life is too short to exist without joy. Sometimes, the very path we believe will lead us to success can actually lead to burnout. Shortcuts often disguise longer routes, and meaningful goals are worth the wait.

This lesson cost me a week of creative exhaustion to learn, but it’s one I won’t forget easily.

So, dear reader, I’ll see you again in my next essay, poem, or book, right after I finish playing this game. Thank you for taking the time to read my story. If you enjoyed it, please consider exploring my novels. You might also find interest in these other stories:

• I Hooked Up With a Literary Groupie. Here Are Some Interesting Lessons I Learned.
• I Broke Up With a Beautiful Woman Because She Was a Conspiracy Theorist.

Enjoy reading the tales of Alvin Ang and countless other writers on Medium. Your membership supports our craft.

Chapter 2: Insights from Burnout

In this insightful video, Jay Shetty addresses the signs of burnout and offers practical advice on overcoming it.

This video outlines eleven signs that indicate you might be experiencing burnout in your life, providing useful tips for recovery.