The Burnout Diaries: Rebuilding yourself in your late 30s
The universe keeps putting the same message in front of me lately. When that happens I’ve learned to not just take notice, but listen.
The message: It’s never too late to start over / again / something new.
Here are a couple of my favorite ways it’s shown up for me:
Through a suggested video on YouTube
THIS poem by Lyndsay Rush (aka
)This post on IG 👇🏼
When you’re replenishing from burnout, there’s a heavy resistance to starting over / again / something new, almost to the point of paralysis.
We don’t want to be at zero.
We don’t want to start from scratch.
And we definitely don’t want to go backwards.
When you’re burnt out, the thought of rebuilding feels incredibly overwhelming; especially when everyone around you seems so much further along.
I’m rebuilding myself — my life — in my late 30s (I’m 37).
I grew up thinking that I would spend my 20s working hard and climbing the corporate ladder. The expectation being that once I hit my 30s it would be smooth sailing.
Oh, was I wrong.
I got to my 30s and realized I was burnt out. I didn’t burn out from overworking or hustling though; my burnout stemmed from consistently ignoring my inner voice. I listened and trusted everyone else’s opinions, advice, and direction above my own.
Every move I made was in the direction of what other people thought sounded impressive, worthy, and valuable. What they thought I should do, I did.
As a high-achiever I learned (and excelled) at ignoring or pushing past discomfort in favor of praise and approval.
I can trace this all the way back to high school. I had been burning out since sophomore year — at least. But I didn’t know it.
I made the decision to quit my job at 33 — in hindsight, blindly and hastily.
I say blindly and hastily for a few reasons:
I didn’t really know the root cause of why I was quitting; I rationalized my sudden decision with a very superficial, “I just need a break” reasoning. I now know that I was severely burnt out.
I didn’t know what I wanted; I now know that a completely blank space/page is extremely antithetical to how I best make decisions.
I didn’t know who I was; I now know it’s because I had been absorbing and assuming the persona of everyone else’s projections about me.
We think that we’re supposed to our life together in your 30s.
I, decidedly, do not.
I’m three years into my journey of excavating, replenishing, and rebuilding myself — and my life. I threw everything from my 20s in the trash can because the truth is:
The foundation of that life was built on thinking my worth came from certain places (where I went to school, the companies I worked for, my job titles, salary, where I lived, etc.)
At 37 I’m rewriting the script. Starting over / again / something new.
It took me a long time to find the silver lining of burnout. What I’ve come to experience and know is that after burning out you revive and recharge.
I use these words very intentionally — to revive is to restore to consciousness or life; to recharge is to regain energy or spirit.
Inherent in these acts of renewal is growth and evolution.
We do not emerge from this chapter of life the same way we go into it. We land in an entirely new place on our life’s timeline — literally and figuratively.
We are, for all intents and purposes, a different person.
And though we leap forward, expand, and stretch in new ways, there is one major aspect of ourselves that has the trickiest time catching up: our mindset.
In moments of bravery, courage, and motion it whispers, “It’s too late for you. It’s too hard. You’d have to start over again.”
Replenishing is as much physical work as it is mental. And one of the mental models we must learn to adopt on this journey of replenishment is:
It’s never too late to start over / again / something new.
It’s the way forward.
Part of what feels so overwhelming about starting over / again / something new is the belief — the fear — that we might suffer. We might have to pay a status tax, there may be discomfort in being a beginner, our finances might take a hit, etc. Those are all very real fears that threaten our safety and security.
But here’s where I think we’re different:
Alongside those very real and very loud fears, there’s another part of us — the hopeful part of us. The part of us that believes anything is possible. The part of us that believes we are meant for more.
It is a constant practice to turn up the volume on this voice and turn down the volume of our fears (or better yet, hit the mute button).
Because here’s what I believe deep in my core:
The only limits are the limits we place on ourselves.
We can collapse timelines. We can face — and move through — the prickly edges of our discomfort.
Anything is possible.
When we think of rebuilding after burnout, our thoughts immediately go to, “I have to start from scratch.”
But the truth is, we’re never starting from zero.
We have decades of valuable professional and lived experiences.
It’s never too late to start over / again / something new.
I’m an example of this, and that’s why it’s so important for me to share my experience with you. The good and the prickly.
Because the more examples we see of people rebuilding themselves — and their lives — in their 30s, 40s, 50s, and beyond, the more our minds expand and see evidence of possibility.
Thank you for being here on this journey with me.
And if you’re rebuilding yourself, I’d love for you to give this post a ❤️, restack ♻️, or leave a comment that you’re on this journey too.
I love this so much & I’m also in the process of rebuilding in my 30s. As a fellow high-achiever can only now see how I excelled at ignoring my inner voice in favor of praise… trying to unlearn this every day! Thank you for sharing 😊