Transmission from the Glitchstream – File 004: Burnout Doesn’t Look Like Fire—It Looks Like Fog

 People talk about burnout like it’s dramatic.

A crash. A collapse. A bonfire of ambition.

But that’s not what mine looked like.

I didn’t collapse in flames.
I just… drifted into the mist and stopped waving.

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There was no explosion. No big moment. Just a slow-motion fading.
I kept telling myself I’d get back to things “soon.”
That I was “just tired.”
That it was “a weird week.”
Then a month. Then a year. Then several.

The fog set in quietly and never really left.
And when I tried to fight it—force myself back into structure, deadlines, or passion projects—it just wrapped tighter around my ribs and whispered,
"You’re still not ready."

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This is the part of burnout no one warns you about:
The afterburn.
The numbness.
The ache that doesn’t scream—it sighs.
The ghosting of your own goals.

And if you’re neurodivergent like me, it’s compounded by shame.
You blame yourself for not bouncing back fast enough.
You wonder why your spark feels so far away.
You keep refreshing your brain like it’s a broken browser tab, hoping the magic will reload.

It doesn’t.
Not like that.

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I used to think burnout was about working too hard.
Now I know it’s about being too unseen. Too unsupported.
Too disconnected from meaning, safety, softness.

You don’t burn out from doing what you love.
You burn out when the world demands that you justify it.
When joy becomes performance.
When creativity is tied to obligation instead of curiosity.
When rest becomes a luxury, not a lifeline.

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So if you’re in the fog right now, I see you.

You’re not lazy.
You’re not failing.
You’re not lost forever.

You’re just somewhere in between—where the light is dim and everything feels slow and heavy.

And you don’t have to claw your way out today.
You don’t even have to move.
You can just breathe here, for now.

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Eventually, the mist thins.
The light returns.
Not in a blaze, but in quiet flickers.
A single spark. A word. A whisper of want.

And when it comes, I hope you follow it.

Even if you’re scared.
Even if you still feel broken.
Even if it’s just one shaky step toward yourself.

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⚡️ Final Glitch Before the Portal Closes

Not all fire roars.
Sometimes it smolders in silence, waiting for you to remember:
You’re still in there.
And the fog does not get the final word.

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