Anicca

There was a time I used to open my blog with excitement. It was like stepping into a cozy little room filled with my books, my thoughts, favorite words, and the quiet thrill of expression. Then one day, it just felt heavy. I’d stare at the blinking cursor, feeling like a fraud. Every idea I had felt boring and every sentence sounded hollow. I’d open my dashboard, scroll a bit, sigh, and shut it again. Sometimes, I didn’t even bother opening it for weeks at a time.



It didn’t happen all at once. That’s the tricky part about burnout. It’s rarely loud or dramatic. It arrives quietly, in the form of “Maybe I’ll write tomorrow,” or “I don’t know if this post even matters.” It wraps itself in the language of guilt: “You haven’t posted in weeks.” “You’re letting your readers down.” “Everyone else is so consistent. What’s your excuse?” And before you know it, something that once brought you joy begins to feel like a chore that you are miserably failing at.

For me, blogging was never just a hobby. Initially, it was a form of self-expression, and finding a community that loved reading as much as I do. This blog specifically was how I made sense of the world while going through a huge transition in my life. I made sense of life and inevitable changes in life through reviews of K-dramas that made me cry at 2 a.m., personal essays on grief and healing, or lyrical reflections inspired by my favourite artists, re-learning tarot cards and re-igniting my love for long walks. But somewhere along the way, I got tired. Not just physically tired; soul tired. The kind of tired that sleep doesn’t fix. The kind of tired that creativity cannot flow through.

At first, I blamed myself. Maybe I was too busy with work. Maybe I wasn’t trying hard enough. Maybe I was being lazy. Maybe I had nothing more to say. But the truth was much simpler, and sadder: I was burned out.

The weirdest part? No one talks about blogger burnout as a real thing. We talk about content creators, influencers, journalists facing burnout all the time. But bloggers often get overlooked. And yet, we’re the ones pouring out the softest, rawest and scariest parts of ourselves into our words. Of course it gets heavy sometimes. If you’re a blogger, or someone who creates anything from the heart, who’s ever felt this way - I want you to know you’re not alone. Burnout is real. It doesn’t make you less of a writer, or less worthy of being read. And it’s not the end.

This post is not a listicle of productivity hacks. It’s not a 10-step formula to “crush your content goals.” It’s simply a story of how I lost my spark and slowly, kindly, found my way back to it. If you’re somewhere on that path too, maybe this can be a breadcrumb you follow home.

Watch out for those signs and take them seriously. There were signs I ignored at first. Small, ordinary signs that now seem almost poetic in hindsight. I stopped jotting down ideas in my notes app. My daily writing rituals - a cup of tea, a soft playlist, a few moments of stillness, faded into background noise. I didn’t feel excited to share my thoughts. I didn’t even feel connected to my voice. And that scared me.

Emotionally, I felt hollow. Like I was watching myself go through the motions, detached from any real sense of purpose. Creatively, I felt like a well run dry. No matter how many prompts or Pinterest boards I looked at, nothing felt true. And physically, it started showing up as mental fog, eye strain, and an odd heaviness in my chest every time I even thought about logging into my site. What made it worse was comparison. I’d see other bloggers pushing out content, growing their platforms and I’d spiral. I am not up-to-date on instagram algorthm or the reel trends and I felt like I was falling behind. I wasn’t just tired, I was inadequate. And that shame loop can be brutal. We rarely talk about how painful it is to lose something that once made us feel like ourselves. But that’s what burnout can do. It doesn’t just rob you of your energy. It robs you of your identity.

So, if you’re here... stuck, stalled, or silent... wondering why something you once loved now feels like a burden… please know this: It’s not your fault. You didn’t fail. You’re just burned out. And you deserve rest, not judgment.

The first step to healing wasn’t forcing myself to write again. It was admitting I couldn’t. And in that quiet surrender, the healing began. One of the hardest things I had to learn, and I say this as someone who prides herself on being productive even when I’m running on emotional fumes, was that I am allowed to stop.

Not pivot. Not rebrand. Not hustle in a “new direction.” Just… pause.

At first, I fought it. I kept opening my blog dashboard like it was a moral obligation. I’d click on old drafts with ideas, stare at them blankly, then close the tab with a sense of failure. I was stuck in a loop: unable to create, but unable to rest either, because resting felt like giving up. The truth is, we live in a culture that makes us feel guilty for slowing down, especially when what we’re doing is rooted in passion. “If you love it, you’ll keep doing it,” they say. But love can’t fix exhaustion. Even passion needs room to breathe. Eventually, I realized I couldn’t keep pretending I was “taking a break” while mentally flogging myself for not bouncing back faster. So I gave myself permission to stop trying. Not forever. Just for now. No content goals. No deadlines. No pressure to justify the silence.

Instead of opening my laptop every morning with dread, I shut it. I sat on my balcony with a book instead. I took long walks without thinking about how to turn them into essays. I started writing in my private journal again: not for an audience, not for applause, just to feel my voice again in a space that didn’t demand structure or polish.

I also unsubscribed from the noise. I muted productivity influencers, avoided “How to get your blogging mojo back” posts, and stopped checking my analytics like they were some kind of heart monitor for my creativity. Because here’s what I’ve learned: Sometimes, the best way to find your way back to your passion is to stop demanding it show up on a schedule.

Pausing didn’t magically fix everything. But it gave me space. And in that space, something shifted. The fog didn’t lift overnight, but it started to thin. I noticed little flickers of inspiration again. It was not the pressure-filled, deadline-driven sparks, but they were quiet ideas that made me smile.

So, if you’re on the edge of burnout or already deep in it, let me say this clearly: You are allowed to pause. You are allowed to do nothing. You are allowed to be a person first, a creator second. And anyone, including your own inner critic, who says otherwise should probably take a long nap themselves.

Once I had given myself permission to stop, something surprising happened: I started missing my voice. Not out of guilt or pressure, but out of gentle curiosity. There was no dramatic “comeback moment,” just a quiet urge to create again. But this time, I approached it differently. No big revamps. No grand “I’m back!” announcements. Just small, meaningful changes that helped me ease back into writing without burning myself all over again.

Here are the shifts that helped me find my way:

1. I reconnected with why I started this blog in the first place

I went back and read some of my oldest blog posts. Not to critique or cringe, but to remember. What was I trying to say? Who was I when I wrote this? Somewhere in those imperfect, raw paragraphs, I found the spark again — not in how well I’d written, but in how much heart I’d poured into those pieces.
I asked myself: What did blogging used to feel like before I got too focused on doing it “right”?

2. I let the content priority change

For a while, long-form essays felt too heavy. So I gave myself permission to experiment:
From trying to write 'value' posts and 'SEO' driven content I started blogging about what I cared. If have been following this blog from the beginning - I started writing about Kdrama and Music only recently. Even though I loved them, I wasn't sure if they would have any value to offer.

3. I Wrote Without the Pressure to Publish

This was key. I opened a separate, private document and told myself, no one will ever see this. Suddenly, the words flowed again. I wasn’t performing! I was processing.
Sometimes we need a space where we can be messy and uncensored, so the polished voice can return on its own.

4. I Became a reader again

I stopped trying to “research” other blogs and just read them for joy. I read fiction. I reread old favorites. I started listening to more audiobooks. I fell back in love with language; not as a tool to produce, but as a way to feel.
That love filtered quietly back into my own writing, like a melody I hadn’t heard in a while but still remembered the words to.

5. I made mini rituals around writing

I stopped treating blogging like a chore on my to-do list and started treating it like a ritual:
• Lighting a candle
• Pulling a tarot card for creative energy
• Playing one soft song on loop
These tiny acts helped me transition into writing mode with a sense of ease and reverence, not obligation.

6. I stopped pressuring myself

Everyone will tell you that consistency is the key and ideally one should post a certain number of posts every week/month. I stopped doing that to myself. I show up when I feel like rather than on a fixed day or date.

No single change “fixed” the burnout. But together, they gently co-created a space where writing didn’t feel like something I had to fight. It felt like something I could trust again. Coming back from burnout isn’t about going back to who you were. It is about building something more sustainable from the ashes of what once overwhelmed you. When I finally began writing again - truly writing, not just forcing words out, I realized that I didn’t want to go back to the pace or pressure I had set for myself before. I didn’t want to be a content machine. I wanted to be a person who created from a place of honesty, not obligation.

So here’s what I do differently now:

I don’t chase consistency. Yes, consistency is important. But connection — with myself, with my writing, with my readers — is sacred. If I can’t show up with my full heart, I’d rather wait until I can.

I plan for breaks before I burn out. Now, I build in rest periods. I treat them as necessary pauses, not signs of failure. I no longer wait until I’ve hit the wall. I slow down before I crash into it.

I embrace imperfection. Some posts are poetic, others are plain. Some are long essays, others are lists or rambles. And that’s okay. My blog is not a portfolio — it’s a living, breathing space. It grows and shifts just like I do.

I stay close to my “why.” Every now and then, I ask myself: Why am I writing this? Who am I writing for? What would I say if no one ever read it but me? That check-in helps me write from a place of truth, rather than perform for algorithms or imaginary critics.

I seek help. Whether it is ChatGPT to help me polish my ideas or certain sentences; or ask my co-blogger to pick up the slack from time to time. I am human and it is okay to ask for help.

I let myself write about what makes me feel alive. I do not care whether that’s a K-drama review that no one asked for, a tarot post that no one cares about, or a stream-of-consciousness post about sunsets and solitude. If it lights me up, it’s worth writing.

Burnout taught me that I am not a machine. I am a person with seasons, rhythms, and limits. I no longer romanticize hustle. I romanticize presence, purpose, and peace. And honestly? My life is better for it.

Freelancers: the mythical creatures who work in pajamas, make boat loads of money in two hour workdays and have so much free time that they’re basically always on vacation, right?

Wrong.

If you’ve ever wondered what freelancers really do all day or assumed they’re just chilling at home “between gigs." From unstable income to zero boundaries and clients who think exposure is currency, freelancing is equal parts freedom and chaos. If you have ever looked at a freelancer and thought, “Wow, they have so much free time!” or “Must be nice not having a real job,” allow me to introduce you to the real freelance experience. Yes, we can technically work from anywhere, but that mostly means we’re working from everywhere; including our desks, or the bed,  or at the dinner table, or during our vacation, and sometimes even in our dreams. Sure, we don’t have a boss in the traditional sense, but we do have clients. And unlike a single boss at a full-time job, freelancers get the privilege of juggling multiple bosses at once. And it is important to remember that each 'boss' comes with different demands, deadlines, and urgent last-minute revisions.

And let’s talk about that so called financial freedom. Some months, we might feel like kings, making six figures and treating ourselves to something nice (like…paying rent on time). Other months? We stare into the abyss of our empty bank account, wondering if exposure can truly pay the bills.

Whether you are a fellow freelancer nodding in pain-laughter or someone trying to understand why your freelance friend never replies to your quick messages during the day, here are the top things you need to know about the reality of freelancing life.
Ah, freelancing, the dream job where we wake up at noon, work for an hour in our pajamas, and then spend the rest of the day binge-watching shows while money magically appears in our accounts. At least, that is what a lot of people seem to think. Reality? A lot less glamorous.

So, before you assume your freelancer friend/family is just hanging out at home doing nothing or has endless time to grab lunch on a Tuesday, here are a few things you should know.

1. You’re Always Free, Right?

One of the most common myths about freelancers is that we’re always available; for anything and everything. The assumption being “we don’t have a real job.” Since we work from home (or cafés, or hill stations, or the beach), people assume our schedules are flexible enough to squeeze in weekday brunches, errands, and last-minute hangouts.
Here’s the spoiler: We’re NOT free. We’re just not commuting to an office.
Freelancers manage multiple clients, meetings, invoices, taxes, deadlines and sometimes all of the above in one day. We wear all the hats required to make things work. We have to be the writer, the designer, the accountant, the admin, the therapist (mostly for ourselves)… which means our calendars fill up fast. We usually end up eating our meals at our worktable while checking emails and reading documents. Taking a spontaneous break for a lunch with family often means making up for it with a work sprint that goes past 12 midnight.
So next time you say, “But you can just do it later, right?”, please try to remember, if we don’t work, we don’t get paid. And if we keep skipping work to socialize, we might just end up permanently free and broke.

2. You Must Be Making a Lot, Right?

Here is another freelancing myth that just won’t die: that we make loads of money by working maybe a couple hours a day. While it is true that some freelancers earn well and do have flexible schedules, the full picture is a lot more complicated.
The reality is that the freelance income is wildly inconsistent. One month, we might hit six figures and the next, we are breaking out our piggy-banks and refreshing our inbox waiting for a client to “confirm the project.” There are no guaranteed paycheck, no paid leave, and definitely no HR department to chase overdue payments.
Yes, some of us charge a premium rates. Yes, we hustle constantly for every rupee. But freelancing isn’t a get-rich-quick scheme that most people think it to be. It is a high risk, high stress, do-it-yourself kind of job. If stability is your thing, freelancing will keep you up at night (and not just because you’re working with clients in five different time zones).

3. It Must Be Great to Not Have a Boss

One of the biggest misconceptions about freelance life is that we are “free from the boss.” While that is technically true that we don’t report to a single manager. But in reality? Every client becomes a boss with their own deadlines, expectations, and “just one quick edit” requests at 11 PM.
Freelancers don’t have a boss… we have multiple bosses. And sometimes, they are way worse than any corporate micromanager. They ghost, delay payments, change briefs mid-project, or expect fast turnarounds because they think you’re not doing anything else.
Sure, we have more autonomy. But with that comes juggling priorities, client personalities, and self-management. This honestly requires more patience than dealing with one annoying boss in a regular 9 to 5.

4. Must Be Nice to Work in Your Pajamas All Day

The whole freelancers work in pajamas all day trope sounds cute until you realize that wearing pajamas while working usually means your brain stays in sleep mode too.
Yes, some of us do work in comfy clothes and sometimes we do not even comb our hair in the mornings, but freelancing isn’t a Netflix and nap lifestyle. Just like a ‘real job’, we have to deal with client meetings, strategy sessions, deadlines, and tasks that demand focus. And trust us, showing up to a Zoom call in PJs isn’t exactly a confidence booster.
Most seasoned freelancers swear by getting dressed for work, even if it’s just swapping to specific pajama bottoms for real pants. Because when your bed, your desk, and your fridge are all within five steps of each other, you need every trick to stay productive and professional.

5. Boundaries? What Boundaries?

One of the less glamorous truths about freelancing is how easy it is lose balance and the complete and utter collapse of work-life balance is just a domino away. When your home becomes your office, boundaries go out the window. Suddenly, replying to emails at midnight or taking client calls during dinner becomes absolutely normal.
Friends and family often don’t help either. They assume that because you “work from home,” you’re always reachable. But in reality, freelancers constantly battle distractions, irregular hours, and an inability to fully switch off.
Setting boundaries as a freelancer isn’t a nice-to-have. It is about survival. Because without them, burnout shows up dressed like a cozy blanket and a to-do list that never ends.

6. You Can Just Say No to Bad Clients, Right?

In theory, freelancing means choosing your clients. In reality? Bills exist.
Saying “no” to bad clients sounds empowering, and sometimes, it is. But during dry spells, when income is low or rent is due, freelancers often take on work they know will be painful just to keep the cash flowing. Red flags get ignored. Payment delays become part of the job.
The luxury of turning down bad clients only comes with financial stability. Until then, many freelancers juggle tricky personalities, unrealistic timelines, and underpaid gigs; all the while smiling politely and hoping for better next month.


7. Vacations Are a Lie

You know what’s more stressful than working? Not working… when you’re a freelancer.
Taking a vacation sounds simple enough. Just unplug and relax, right? Except, freelancers don’t get paid leave. No work equals no income. And unless you’ve prepped content, scheduled emails, briefed clients, and wrapped up all deadlines in advance, your “vacation” will be haunted by work guilt and Slack notifications.
Even on the usual national holidays, freelancers can be found checking emails “just in case,” fielding urgent edits, or mentally calculating how much this break is costing them in lost billables.
So yes, we can take a vacation. But it often comes at the price of peace, pay, or both.

8. Despite Everything, We Actually Love It

Here’s the final twist in the tale: despite the chaos, the hustle, the unpredictable income, and the never-ending client emails… we freelancers absolutely love what we do.
We love the creative freedom, the flexibility to work from anywhere, and the ability to build something that’s ours. We love choosing the projects we care about and avoiding the politics of traditional workplaces. Even on our worst days, we know we traded the 9 to 5 grind for a shot at something more meaningful.
Freelancing isn’t perfect. It’s messy, demanding, and sometimes downright exhausting. But for those of us who choose this path, it’s still worth it.

Every single time.

If you have read this far and still think freelancers are just glorified couch potatoes living off passive income and good vibes… Congratulations! you have clearly been talking to our relatives.

Here’s the truth: freelancing is not some magical loophole in capitalism where people get rich while binge-watching Netflix in pajamas. It is unpredictable, unglamorous, and frequently exhausting. It demands strategy, self-discipline, resilience, and the occasional emotional breakdown over an unpaid invoice. We juggle deadlines, pitching to new clients, chasing the old ones for payments, and somehow still get labelled as the one ‘who does not have a real job’. After all is said and done, for reasons even we don’t fully understand, we love this chaotic little career path. Maybe it’s the freedom. Maybe it’s the caffeine. Maybe we’re just built different.

So the next time someone tells you they’re a freelancer, resist the urge to ask if they’re “still doing that little thing from home.” Instead, maybe offer them a coffee. They’ve probably been up since 6 AM working on three different projects while also being their own admin, marketing head, and IT support.

Freelancing isn’t a hobby. It’s a full-time job, and then some.