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I’ll be honest with you—my creative spark recently packed its bags, left a passive-aggressive Post-it on my desk, and vanished like a freaking ghost.
Poof...gone.
Burnout hit me like a freight train.
Not all at once—but in slow, sneaky waves. Kind of like when you’re roasting a marshmallow and you think you’ve got it—then boom, it's engulfed in flames and you’re holding a sticky blackened blob on a stick. Burnout sneaks up just like that.
One second you're glowing, the next, you're charred and crispy and wondering what went wrong. The kind where you still show up, but everything feels dry. Forced. Like you're squeezing juice out of a rock and wondering why it tastes like sawdust.
And the worst part? I kept going. Like a good little creative robot. Hitting deadlines. Posting content. Pushing pixels.
Smiling on the outside while inside I was yelling: "WHERE DID THE MAGIC GO?!"
So if that’s you? If you're quietly (or loudly) panicking because you're stuck in a creative desert—friend, you are not alone.
Here’s the truth that hurts but heals:
Burnout doesn’t mean you’re broken.
It means you’re human.
It means something inside you is asking for your attention.
What I Did When I Had Nothing Left:
- I Stopped Creating Content for the Algorithm
I stopped showing up just to be "consistent." I paused my posting, unsubscribed from a few trend-chasing voices, and gave myself permission to go silent.
- I Signed Up for a Course I Didn’t Have Time For
Because I needed to remember what learning felt like again. Not producing. Not performing. Just being a student. It woke something up in me.
- I Took Walks Without a Podcast
My brain didn’t need more input. It needed space. Silence. Margin. The kind where God could actually whisper something through the noise.
- I Cried. And Then I Let Myself Rest
No "content batch" can cure a soul that’s starving. You have to feed yourself.
Burnout is like pulling a terrible hand in Scrabble—you keep rearranging the same useless letters, hoping a masterpiece will magically appear.
And yet, we keep trying.
We convince ourselves that one more rearrangement, one more hustle-heavy day, one more late-night creative sprint will somehow make it click.
But here’s the deal: no matter how clever your next move is, if you’re working with burnout-brained tiles, all you’re spelling is exhaustion.
Sometimes, you need to dump the whole tray and pull a fresh set. Step away from the board. Let your mind reset. Only then can the creativity flow again—this time with better letters and far less pressure.
Actionable Truth for the Creatively Exhausted:
- Unfollow accounts that make you feel behind.
- Schedule two days this month to create only for yourself. Not to post. Not to sell.
- Write one page about what you really want to make—and why you’re not making it.
- Create a "Creative First Aid Kit": fill a box or folder with things that inspire you—old sketches, quotes, childhood drawings, photos that stir your soul. Or create a document that you can change and print out of what you want and what inspires you.
- Try a creative practice that’s totally unrelated to your usual medium. (Writers, pick up a paintbrush. Photographers, try sculpting. Designers, try poetry.)
- Set a timer for 10 minutes a day and do joyful nothing. Stare out a window. Doodle badly. Think of it as refueling, not wasting time.
- Revisit your "why". Ask yourself: If no one ever saw this, would I still make it?
- Talk to another creative—in real life. Say out loud what you’ve been holding in. Often clarity comes in conversation.
Your creative gift isn’t gone. It’s buried under a pile of productivity and pressure. Let’s dig it out. Gently.
And hey—sometimes we’re like marshmallows that got a little too close to the fire. Burnt on the outside, gooey mess on the inside. But even burnt marshmallows still have sweetness left. Burnout doesn’t disqualify you—it just means it’s time to pull back from the flame.
Burnout isn’t permanent—it’s a season. A strange, uncomfortable, refining one. But it passes.
And I truly believe God uses these little messes—our exhaustion, our overextension, our "just one more thing" spirals—to teach us something we desperately need to learn. For me, I needed an intervention. Not a productivity hack or a better morning routine. I needed to take care of myself—physically, mentally, and creatively.
When we get so into our work—seeing progress, chasing the grind, stacking up the income—we tend to put ourselves dead last.
Burnout is often God’s holy interruption.
A loving reset.
A repurposing.
If we’re made in His image, we have to believe our value is far bigger than what we create or accomplish in a day.
Your worth isn’t tied up in what you produce. You are more than your to-do list, your client roster, your likes, your launch calendar.
You are already worthy.
And if you need help? I am your girl. I have been here, done that and met thousands of creatives just like you that need just a little nudge. I offer Creative Business Mentorship for just this very reason. I would be happy to help you begin to work through it.
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