Beneath the Surface: Battling Burnout and Anxiety in a Post-Pandemic World
Breaking Stigma and Finding Hope in the Age of Screens
Morning light spilled through the window, but my heart was racing. It’s been over two years since the lockdown ended, but life hasn’t gone back to normal. The thought of stepping outside fills me with unease. News channels still talk about the pandemic’s aftermath—it feels like the world changed forever. They say this is post-pandemic anxiety. I'm not alone—but even knowing that doesn't bring peace. Lying in bed, endlessly scrolling through my phone feels easier than facing the world, even though everything inside me feels tangled.
At the office, everything feels heavy with pressure. From morning till night, Zoom calls don’t stop. Our boss expects us to be available 24/7. My eyes burn from staring at the screen. The fatigue is constant and creeping. They call us the “burnout generation”—and it’s true. Deadlines and invisible responsibilities sit like weight on our shoulders. Social media is always on, yet even posting feels like a chore. Being constantly connected isn’t as simple as it sounds.
I saw a message on Instagram in my own language: “Take care of your mental health.” Hashtags like #MentalHealth and #Burnout fill my feed as people share videos—“drink water, meditate, take a walk.” It gives me hope that I’m not alone, but sometimes it feels like the pain runs deeper because real change is still so slow. I saw a short video on breathing techniques, but my thoughts drifted again. Therapy is becoming more normalized now—people talk about their sessions and self-care routines online. For me, just thinking about therapy feels brave—and terrifying.
One day, I told my sister I was feeling anxious. She laughed and said, “Are you joking?” In our society, mental distress is seen as madness. People say, “Don’t worry, get married or go to a gathering—it’ll be fine.” This mindset is damaging. It silences you before you can even speak. I sometimes wonder if it’s just me or if everyone is quietly suffering. This silence is what scares me the most.
It was a sunny afternoon when I decided to step away from the screen. Walking on the grass, the sunlight gently warmed my face. The wind whispered through the green branches above. For a moment, peace felt within reach—as if the world had paused. I took a deep breath and thought maybe therapy is something like this—natural and slow. Sitting on a bench in the park, I watched kids play freely. They seemed so untouched by the weight adults carry. A quiet hope bloomed that maybe I could feel that peace again. For now, I just needed this break.
Eventually, I began searching for an online therapist. I found that mental health counseling is more available now. Even free helplines showed up in the results. Taking the first step felt hard, but I realized doing nothing wouldn’t change anything. I messaged a friend: “I’ve been feeling really anxious.” She replied instantly: “Me too. Let’s talk about it.” Her message gave me a strange comfort. Now I know it’s okay to ask for help when I need it.
This journey hasn’t been easy, but every step has mattered. The way people talk is changing. Even in our WhatsApp group, friends now share their struggles openly. We talk about burnout, the pressure of social media, and mental exhaustion. I hope one day the stigma will fade completely. I still have hard days, but I’ve learned that saying “I need help” is not a weakness—it’s strength. The post-pandemic world has taught us that health, especially mental health, must come first. Maybe one day, when I say, “It’s okay—you’re tired too,” they’ll understand. Until then, I’ll keep breathing, keep walking, and slowly keep building myself back up.
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More stories from Fazal Maula and writers in Petlife and other communities.
The Last Run: A Dog’s Journey of Loyalty and Hope
Chapter 1: Born to Run In a quiet town nestled between forested hills and winding rivers, a litter of Border Collie pups was born to a retired sheepdog named Lady. Among them was the smallest of the group, a black-and-white pup with bright amber eyes and an energy that seemed too big for his tiny frame. His name was Scout. From the beginning, Scout showed signs of being special—not because he was the strongest or the fastest, but because he never gave up. While other puppies rested, Scout explored. While others followed, Scout led. His heart outgrew his body every day, and so did his curiosity. --- Chapter 2: Chosen by Chance When he was just eight weeks old, Scout was adopted by an old man named Walter, a retired marathon runner who had lost both his wife and son in a tragic car accident. The old man rarely spoke and never smiled. But when he saw Scout, something inside him softened. “I don’t need a dog,” Walter told the woman at the shelter. “But I think he needs me.” From that day forward, Scout and Walter became inseparable. Walter didn’t believe in toys or treats; he believed in running. Every morning, rain or shine, Scout and Walter ran through town, through trails, across hills. To the townspeople, they became a symbol: the grieving man learning to heal, and the little dog with legs that never stopped moving. --- Chapter 3: The Storm Life settled into a rhythm. But as seasons changed, so did Walter. He grew slower. One morning, he collapsed while tying his shoes. The doctors diagnosed him with a heart condition. Running was out of the question. Scout didn’t understand. Every morning, he’d sit by the door, leash in mouth, waiting. But Walter never moved. Then, one cold morning, Walter passed away in his sleep. His body was found days later—Scout lying beside him, silent and unmoving. The town mourned. People came to pay respects. But no one wanted to adopt an old, grieving dog. Scout was taken to the town shelter, confused and alone. --- Chapter 4: The Escape Scout wasn’t meant for cages. One rainy night, he slipped through a loose fence and ran. No one knows how he found the trail, but two days later, hikers spotted a dog running along the old forest path where Walter used to take him. The same route. The same pace. Every morning. Some said it was instinct. Others said it was grief. But every day at dawn, Scout ran Walter’s route—six miles through woods, hills, and across the river bridge—then disappeared back into the trees. The story spread. Locals began calling him The Phantom Runner. Videos of the dog running the trail at sunrise went viral. A hashtag trended: #RunLikeScout. --- Chapter 5: A Town Rallies Moved by the story, the community decided to turn Walter’s favorite trail into “The Scout Loop.” Volunteers placed water stations, signs with quotes about loyalty and love, and benches named after Scout and Walter. Joggers began to follow him. Children waited with treats. Tourists came from far and wide, hoping to catch a glimpse of the famous dog. But Scout didn’t stop for anyone. He kept running. Every day. Every morning. As if Walter was still with him. --- Chapter 6: The Final Mile Two winters later, a blizzard hit the town. Roads were closed. Schools shut down. That morning, people assumed Scout wouldn’t run. But just as the sun peeked over the snowy hills, there he was. Alone. Tired. Covered in frost. He ran slower than before, limping slightly, his fur caked with snow. But he ran. Locals lined the trail, silently cheering him on, many with tears in their eyes. That evening, Scout didn’t return to the woods. He collapsed near the memorial bench that bore Walter’s name. A young runner picked him up gently and took him to the vet. The diagnosis: Scout’s heart was failing. Age had caught up. --- Chapter 7: Legacy in Motion Scout passed away that night, in warmth, surrounded by the very people who once left him alone in a shelter. His story didn’t end there. A statue of Scout now stands at the start of the trail, with the inscription: “Run with heart. Run with purpose.” Each year, the town holds The Scout Run—a 6-mile charity event supporting animal shelters and heart health awareness. Thousands attend, many with their own rescue dogs. Children grow up hearing the story of the little dog who ran every day for the man who once saved him. --- Final Thoughts: Why Scout’s Story Matters In a world where loyalty is rare and love often conditional, Scout reminds us that sometimes, the most powerful love is silent, persistent, and unwavering. His story isn’t just about a dog who ran—it’s about devotion, healing, and the trails we walk in memory of those we’ve lost. Scout never stopped believing. Even when left behind, he ran toward what he loved, not away from it. And in doing so, he taught a town—and the world—that some journeys are too meaningful to stop. ---
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