The Energy Equation: What Burnout Actually Is
There's a simple equation at the heart of burnout, and it has nothing to do with whether you like your job.
Energy in. Energy out.
When the energy required to do something chronically exceeds the energy you get back from doing it, you deplete. Not in a dramatic, single-moment way. In a slow, accumulating way that you might not notice until you're already deep in it.
The juice isn't worth the squeeze.
That's burnout. Not hating your job. Not being lazy. Not lacking grit or resilience. Just math that doesn't work anymore.
This Is Different
I recently wrote a series about hating your job. This isn't that.
Hating your job is about fit. Something is wrong with the match between you and what you're doing. The work, the people, the environment, the expectations—something doesn't align.
Burnout is different. Burnout is about energy. And here's what makes it tricky: you can burn out of a job you love.
You can be passionate about the work. You can believe in the mission. You can be good at what you do and surrounded by people you respect. And you can still burn out.
Because burnout isn't about whether something is good or bad. It's about whether the energy equation balances. And when it doesn't—when you're giving more than you're getting back, day after day, week after week—it doesn't matter how much you love what you're doing. The math catches up.
The Shrinking Window
Here's how it usually works.
At first, you can recover day to day. You come home tired, but a decent night's sleep resets you. You wake up the next morning and you're okay. Not great, maybe. But functional. Ready to go again.
This is sustainable. This is normal. Most jobs involve some degree of effort and recovery. That's fine.
Then the window starts to shrink.
A good night's sleep doesn't quite cut it anymore. You wake up still tired. But hey, there's the weekend. Friday night comes, you decompress, you rest, and by Sunday evening you're... mostly okay. You've recovered enough to face another week.
This is where a lot of people live. It's not great, but it's manageable. The weekend is your reset button. You can keep going.
But then the weekend stops being enough.
You rest all day Saturday. You do nothing on Sunday. And when the alarm goes off Monday morning, you're still depleted. You haven't recovered. You're starting the week already behind. This is where burnout starts to become dangerous. Because now you're operating from a deficit. And each week, the deficit grows a little larger.
The Longer View
But here's what makes burnout tricky to spot: it doesn't always follow a neat daily or weekly pattern.
Sometimes it's more seasonal. You work on a project that depletes you, but then you get assigned to something different—something that gives you energy back. Your bucket refills a bit. You feel better. Maybe the problem is solved.
Then you're back on a depleting project. And another. And another.
The level goes up and down. Good stretches, bad stretches. It's easy to point to the good stretches and tell yourself everything is fine.
But the question isn't whether there are good days or bad days. The question is: where is the long-term trend pointing?
External changes can create reprieves too. You get promoted. You get a new boss who's better than the old one. Your company goes remote and suddenly the commute stress disappears. Something shifts, and you get a window of relief.
Sometimes this is enough. Sometimes the change actually solves the underlying problem.
But sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes the trend is still down, just with a temporary bump. And if you're not watching the long-term picture, you might mistake the bump for a reversal.
This is the key difference between burnout and simply hating your job. You can hate a job on day one. You can walk in, look around, and know immediately that something is wrong. That's fit. Burnout is different. Burnout doesn't happen overnight. It can take months to settle in. Years, sometimes. And even longer to become obvious—because the reprieves and the good stretches and the temporary improvements all mask the underlying trend.
The awareness of burnout is the awareness of long-term trends. And being honest about where they're actually pointing.
The Twilight State
You know how you can tell when you're sleep deprived?
You don't feel it as a single moment of exhaustion. It's more like a fog. A twilight state. You walk around in a haze, never quite alert, never quite rested. Your baseline shifts downward and you forget what normal felt like.
Burnout works the same way.
It's not that you feel exhausted in some obvious, dramatic way. It's that you live in a constant state of low-grade depletion. Your energy, your spirit, your life force—whatever you want to call it—it's always running a little below where it should be.
And because it's gradual, because it's constant, because it becomes your new normal, you might not even recognize it as burnout.
You just think this is how life feels now.
The Progression
If you don't listen to the signals, they get louder.
In my experience, burnout usually starts cognitively. Something feels off. You're irritated by things that didn't used to bother you. You have trouble focusing. You catch yourself dreading things you used to enjoy. But it's subtle. Easy to dismiss. Easy to push through.
Then it moves into your emotions. You're exhausted all the time—not physically, but emotionally. You're irritable. Short-tempered. You don't feel like yourself. Your baseline mood shifts downward. You're "off" more often than you're "on."
Then the body starts talking.
Insomnia. Headaches. Chronic pain that appears from nowhere. Digestive issues. A general sense that something is physically wrong, even if the doctors can't find anything.
This is your system escalating the message. The cognitive signals didn't work. The emotional signals didn't work. Now it's getting physical. Now it's harder to ignore. And if you keep ignoring it? I don't know exactly what comes next, but I know it's not good. The trend line is clear, and it's pointing down.
Why We Don't Talk About It
Here's what makes burnout especially insidious: it often happens with things we "should" be grateful for.
A job you worked hard to get. A career you invested years building. A mission you believe in. A company that treats you well. By any external measure, you have it good.
So when you start to feel depleted, when the math stops working, when you can't recover anymore—you don't say anything. Because what would that make you?
Ungrateful. Entitled. Weak.
You should be enjoying this. You should feel lucky. Other people would kill for this opportunity.
And so you stay quiet. You push through. You tell yourself it's temporary, it's just a rough patch, it'll get better.
And the depletion continues.
This is one of the cruelest aspects of burnout. The very things that make a situation valuable—the meaning, the mission, the opportunity—become the reasons you can't admit something is wrong.
The Leaky Bucket
I think of burnout as a leaky bucket.
Every day, you pour energy in. And every day, some of it drains out. As long as you're pouring in more than you're losing, the bucket stays reasonably full.
But when the leak is bigger than the flow? When you're draining faster than you're filling? The bucket empties. Slowly at first. Then faster.
And the thing about an empty bucket is: you can't give what you don't have. You can't be present for your family when you're depleted. You can't show up for friends when you have nothing left. You can't make good decisions when you're running on fumes. You can't even help the people and causes you care about—the very things that might be causing the burnout—because there's nothing left to give.
The leak needs to be fixed before the bucket is empty.
What This Series Is About
Over the next four parts, I want to explore what burnout actually looks like in practice, how it takes hold, and what you can do about it.
In Part 2, I'll share some stories about what the downward spiral looks like—including the clearest, most visceral illustration of burnout I've ever witnessed. We'll talk about how burnout accumulates and how we get really good at coping with a trend that's heading in the wrong direction.
In Part 3, we'll look at what we're holding onto. The death grip. Why we can't let go of things that are depleting us—even when we know they're depleting us.
In Part 4, we'll examine what life is telling us when we burn out. The signals we ignore. The things we hide from ourselves.
And in Part 5, we'll talk about the way through. Not a magic solution, but practical ways to think about responding instead of just reacting. Because this does get better. There is hope. But it requires something from us.
A Note Before We Continue
I don't want this series to be doom and gloom.
Yes, burnout is serious. Yes, it can damage your health, your relationships, your career. Yes, ignoring it makes it worse.
But I also want to name it. To say out loud that this happens—more often than we talk about, to more people than admit it.
If you're feeling depleted right now, if the math isn't working, if the recovery window has shrunk to nothing—you're not alone. And you're not broken. This is a real thing. It has causes. And it can be addressed.
That's what this series is about.
Feeling Stuck in a Role That's Depleting You?
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