Or: How to Avoid Being Mentally Drop Kicked
Let me paint the scene: someone finally opens up. They admit—haltingly, maybe jokingly—that they’re not okay. They’re tired, but not the “slept badly” kind of tired. The kind that feels stitched into their bones.
And instead of being met with understanding, they’re served a helping of cheerfully hollow nonsense – “ah, it’s not that bad, at least…[insert something annoying].”
It’s weird how people panic when you stop saying “I’m fine,” isn’t it?
Burnout is hard enough without the bonus round of well-meaning advice that ranges from useless to vaguely insulting. If you’ve ever heard “you just need a holiday” while on the brink of emotional disintegration, you’ll know what I mean.
Let’s start with that one, shall we?
No, I don’t need a holiday. I need rest. Not hotel-airport-queue-rest, but the kind where no one needs me, no one asks me to care for anyone, and no alarms go off—literal or emotional. A week in the sun won’t reverse the years I spent slowly abandoning myself in the name of “just one more shift.”
Then there’s the classic: “But you’re so good at your job!”
And yes—I was. I still might be, on a good day. But being good doesn’t make you immune to burnout. If anything, it’s the overachievers and people-pleasers who go down first. I smiled through it, took pride in my work, and forgot how to ask for help until my brain just… stopped cooperating.
Talent doesn’t protect you from exhaustion. Sometimes it just hides it better.
And if I had a pound for every time someone said “we’re all tired,” I’d have enough to pay for the therapy the NHS underfunded.
Yes, we’re all tired. But some of us are so depleted we’ve forgotten what it feels like not to be running on adrenaline and dry toast.
The real kicker, though, is the “just push through” advice.
Push through what, exactly? My own nervous system collapse? My crumbling short-term memory? The gnawing sense of being permanently behind on life?
I’ve been pushing for years, and all it got me was anxiety, shingles, and the sudden inability to remember why I walked into a room.
There are others, too.
The “have you tried yoga?” brigade.
The “look for the positives!” enthusiasts.
The “why don’t you have a nice bath” crowd.
None of them mean harm. But none of them are listening, either.
And the worst of all—the one that truly sends me—comes delivered with a half-shrug and a helpless smile:
“Maybe you just need to learn to be a bit more resilient?”
The truth is, people often don’t know what to say to burnout, because burnout is uncomfortable. It’s messy. It doesn’t have a quick fix or a tidy ending. It makes people confront the parts of themselves they’ve been ignoring too.
But if you want to help someone who’s burning out? Just listen. Hold space. Don’t try to fix them. Don’t rush to positivity or productivity.
Say, “That sounds really hard.”
Say, “You don’t have to do this alone.”
Say nothing at all—just bring a decent cup of tea and sit with them in silence, letting them exist without expectation.
Sometimes, that’s all we really need.
Not advice. Not yoga. Just the quiet permission to fall apart without being told to smile through it.
– Duty of Care
What are some of the unhelpful comments you’ve heard when sharing your experience of burnout? Drop a comment below.
Duty of Care 
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