30+ Ways to Beat Burnout
Business + Education
It's coming. You can you can sense it, you can feel it. You can watch it approaching you, and anxiously await it's creeping into your space.
What is it? It’s burnout. It’s the result of working to find solutions for everything except the problem that needs to be fixed. I've learned that burnout isn’t an enemy; it's actually a friend with an overwhelming personality, but a loving spirit; and it’s allowed me to recognize when my environment isn't nurturing me. When I need to nurture myself, I know that burnout is a tool that forces me to assess my needs.
My feelings of stress and overwhelm redirect my energy toward making my environment more supportive for me. I use that knowledge to create a space for positive exchange and collective cooperation for myself and others. I turn burnout into safe space(s).
Because burnout is inevitable, I treat it as a natural cycle that occurs when the environment isn't fitting the needs of the people in it, which creates opportunities for community care.
I've combined my experiences and what I’ve learned to help others Beat *clap* the *clap* Burnout *clap*.
First of all, I can’t emphasize it enough! There’s Strength in Surrender!
1. Strength in Surrender means that instead of avoiding burnout or working against it, learning what the root cause is can create opportunities for solutions. Burnout is the product of the environment not supplying the needs to maintain all of the responsibility for a person or group. Understanding the cause of burnout allows for the necessary boundaries to be set. By setting boundaries struggles with exhaustion and overwhelm can be managed. In essence, allowing what hasn’t been addressed to become a shared focus.
Burnout can be a learning tool!
To break this down, immediate needs may become repetitious, and monotony contributes to burnout, but excitement can be created by:
A. Spending time alone:
2. Going for a drive, either a long drive or short drive, taking a drive and getting some time to self offers a moment to reflect.
3. Getting a treat, taking a moment to treat myself allows for me to relax and remind myself that I like feeling like a priority for myself too.
4. Taking advantage of Curbside service, going out and trying to maintain safe standards can be overwhelming and anxiety inducing. Using curbside service when available can reduce stress.
5. Cooking, searching and trying out new recipes can be a new and exciting opportunity to indulge and meet the basic needs.
6. Hair and Skin Care, can be a large responsibility when our needs need to be met, but they can also be a perfect reason to take extra time and energy for self.
7. Cleaning, it's not always easy, but keeping things manageable can ease stress, and release anxiety (which can build up when there's too much clutter).
8. Resting/Sleeping, rest is important for recovery, and to prevent harm or injury.
9. Crafting, focusing energy on fun projects.
10. Online shopping, some retail therapy can be helpful from time to time.
B. Self-care is not a secret any more. To understand that self-care is an important part of routine and health is important for everyone. Also, actively engaging in self-care requires asking important questions including:
11. “When was the last time that I Enjoyed movies or a good TV show?”
12. “How have I released stress lately?”
13. “How am I feeling?”
14. “Should I record my moods for reflection?”
15. “What would make me feel more empowered at this time?”
16. “Would taking time for myself help me right now?”
17. “If I could be anywhere right now, where would I be?”
C. Mental Health and Well Being are important aspects of staying healthy and managing all challenges. They provide the ability to think through long term and short term obstacles, setting goals for moving forward, and staying aware of overall health. Re-direct burnout by:
18. Coaching, can help with meeting some achievement goals, and re-directing energy.
19. Finding a therapist, can offer time focus on becoming more aware of stress.
20. Utilizing resources like workbooks, vision boards, apps, etc to work through concerns.
I’ve created a Reflection Guide and you can get it here:
The Cope Life: Reflection Guide- https://forms.gle/priR9FfYrtV8dHPH6
21. Taking a class, learning something new or expanding current knowledge.
22. Finding a community of support, joining or creating groups.
23. Completing a new challenge, re-directing energy to an achievement.
24. Changing Perspectives, looking at the bigger picture of the situation and finding solutions.
25. Taking space for feelings analysis, taking time through a vacation or time to self for quiet and calm.
D. Physical Health is challenging to prioritize because physical challenges can contribute to burnout, but making time to exercise and work off excess stress could also be refreshing. Some activities include, but aren’t limited to:
26. Walking
27. Running
28. Movement
29. Weight Training
30. Bicycling
31. Climbing
32. Swimming
33. Martial Arts
There are many things that I did not mention in this list, but that means that you are free to add your own ideas, and find what works for you. As you can see there are many ways to beat the challenges of burnout, but remember, there’s so much power in using it as a tool.
About the Creator
Regina Stone-Grover
Wmich alum Cmich Alum Psychologist, Poet and Speaker at Free Your Phire. Skilled blogger, ghost writer, researcher. Contact me: [email protected]. Freephire.com
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Looking back: 2025 was a beast
It's difficult to know how to start this. I've suggested that it's been a tough one from my title and in many ways, it has; however, there is an argument that it's not been that extraordinary at all, merely this wonderful thing we call "life" with all its climaxes and pitfalls.
By Rachel Deeming20 days ago in Motivation
“One Day, I Realized Nobody Was Coming to Save Me—So I Saved Myself”
For the longest time, I believed my life was simply paused. Not broken. Not finished. Just waiting. Waiting for the right moment. Waiting for the right person. Waiting for something—anything—to arrive and change everything. I didn’t know exactly what I was waiting for, but I was sure it would come. People always said things like “It’ll get better” or “Your time will come”, and I clung to those words like promises written in invisible ink. I believed that if I endured long enough, life would eventually reward my patience. So I waited. I waited quietly, because I didn’t want to be a burden. I waited politely, because I didn’t want to seem ungrateful. I waited silently, because I didn’t even know how to explain what was wrong. From the outside, my life looked acceptable. I functioned. I showed up. I smiled when it was expected of me. I laughed at jokes that didn’t reach my heart. I answered “I’m fine” so often that it started to feel like muscle memory. But inside, something was eroding. Every day felt heavier than the last, like I was carrying a weight that kept growing while no one was looking. I woke up tired, went to bed tired, and spent the hours in between pretending I wasn’t. There was a quiet exhaustion that sleep couldn’t touch—a tiredness that came from constantly hoping for relief that never arrived. I thought suffering had to be loud to be real. I thought pain needed witnesses to matter. Mine had neither. There was no dramatic breaking point, no single moment when everything fell apart. Instead, it unraveled slowly. Almost gently. Like a thread pulled so gradually you don’t notice the fabric weakening until it’s too late. I kept telling myself, Just hold on a little longer. Surely someone would notice. Surely someone would step in. Surely life wouldn’t let me keep feeling this way forever. But life did. And then one day—an ordinary day that didn’t announce its importance—I realized something that changed everything. Nobody was coming. That realization didn’t arrive with clarity or relief. It arrived like grief. Heavy. Sharp. Unforgiving. I remember sitting alone, staring at nothing in particular, and feeling the truth settle into my bones. There would be no rescue. No sudden turning point delivered by someone else’s effort. No moment where everything magically aligned and lifted me out of my own life. It wasn’t that people didn’t care. It was that everyone was busy surviving their own storms. I had been waiting for someone to save me from a life that only I was living. And for a while, that realization shattered me. I felt abandoned by the world, betrayed by hope itself. I questioned every prayer I had whispered into the dark, every moment I had chosen patience over action. I wondered if I had misunderstood life completely—if the promises I believed in were never meant for people like me. I mourned the version of myself who thought endurance alone was enough. There is a special kind of loneliness that comes from realizing your pain is invisible. That no matter how heavy it feels to you, the world keeps moving at the same pace. Bills still need to be paid. Responsibilities still demand attention. Smiles are still expected. So I kept going. But something inside me had cracked open. Once you see the truth, you can’t unsee it. And the truth was this: waiting had become my hiding place. Hope, without action, had become an excuse to stay small. I had been standing still, convincing myself that stillness was strength. It wasn’t. Saving myself didn’t begin with confidence. It began with fear. Fear of staying the same. Fear of waking up ten years later in the same emotional place. Fear of realizing that I had wasted my own life waiting for permission to live it. I didn’t suddenly become brave. I became tired of being helpless. The first steps were almost embarrassing in their simplicity. There was nothing poetic about them. No montage-worthy transformation. Just small decisions that felt enormous at the time. Getting out of bed even when my body begged me not to. Choosing one task, then another, then another. Letting myself admit—quietly—that I was not okay. Some days, saving myself meant setting boundaries that made other people uncomfortable. I learned how often my exhaustion came from overextending myself to earn love, approval, or relevance. Saying no felt selfish at first. It felt wrong. But it also felt like oxygen. Other days, saving myself meant sitting alone with my feelings instead of numbing them. No distractions. No pretending. Just honesty. That was harder than any physical effort I had ever made. Facing your own thoughts can feel like standing in front of a mirror that refuses to lie. I began to understand something no one had taught me: healing is not linear, and it is rarely beautiful. It’s messy. Inconsistent. Frustrating. Some days feel like progress, others feel like failure. But both are part of the same road. There were days I missed the comfort of waiting. Waiting meant responsibility belonged to someone else. Taking control meant accepting that my life—every imperfect part of it—was in my hands. That was terrifying. But it was also freeing. As I slowly rebuilt myself, I noticed something else. Not everyone wanted to walk with me into this new version of myself. Some people preferred the me who needed saving. The me who was easier to control, easier to dismiss, easier to define. Outgrowing people hurts. Outgrowing places hurts. Outgrowing old versions of yourself hurts most of all. But staying the same hurts longer. I lost connections I thought were permanent. I stepped away from spaces that no longer fit who I was becoming. Loneliness returned—but this time, it was different. This loneliness felt honest. It didn’t come from abandonment; it came from alignment. I learned that being alone while growing is far healthier than being surrounded while shrinking. Strength, I discovered, isn’t loud. It doesn’t announce itself. It doesn’t demand recognition. Strength shows up quietly, day after day, in the choices you make when no one is watching. It shows up when you keep going even though the results are slow. When you forgive yourself for falling back into old habits. When you choose patience with yourself instead of punishment. There were setbacks—many of them. I stumbled. I doubted myself. I wondered if I was doing everything wrong. But this time, I didn’t collapse and wait for someone else to fix the damage. I picked myself up. Again and again. And something unexpected happened as I kept choosing myself: the world didn’t suddenly become easier, but I became stronger. Problems that once felt unbearable became manageable. Pain that once consumed me became something I could sit with without losing myself. I stopped asking, Why is this happening to me? I started asking, What can I do with what’s happening? That question changed everything. Today, my life is not perfect. I still have days when old fears resurface. I still feel tired sometimes. I still wish things were easier. But I no longer wait for rescue. I trust myself now. I trust that even if things fall apart, I will be there to put them back together. I trust that my worth doesn’t depend on who shows up for me. I trust that I am capable of building a life that feels like my own. And maybe the most important thing I’ve learned is this: realizing nobody is coming to save you is not a sentence. It’s an invitation. An invitation to stop shrinking. An invitation to take responsibility for your healing. An invitation to become the person you’ve been waiting for. If you’re reading this and you feel stuck—if you feel invisible, exhausted, or quietly breaking—I want you to know this: you are not weak for waiting. You were doing the best you could with what you knew. But you don’t have to wait anymore. Sometimes, saving yourself doesn’t mean changing everything. It means choosing yourself once—then choosing yourself again tomorrow. And one day, you’ll look back and realize that the moment nobody came was the moment your life truly began.Start writing...
By Ihtisham Ulhaq5 days ago in Motivation
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