Her Travel Memories

One year latter : the anniversary

Hey,
It’s officially been one year. One year since I started this blog after receiving an email. If you haven’t read that story yet, I invite you to start there: The Day They Sent the Email — and Why I Started Writing.
Life after burnout doesn’t arrive all at once — and one year in, I’m still learning what it actually looks like.

So what changed during that year? After all, this is a blog about rebuilding myself after burnout. And the answer is: so much, and yet not enough.
First of all, I feel more like myself than I have in years. Which, honestly, might be the biggest achievement of all.
Second, I got to scream my heart out during a Linkin Park show at Download Festival two days before my birthday, which turned out to be incredibly therapeutic. I highly recommend it. Especially considering that my depression ball had started growing again. But I’ll tell you all about that in another article.
And third, I’m writing this from an Airbnb in Bristol. Quite a surprising city, if you ask me. I still don’t really know what I think about it yet.

Why I Disappeared — and What Healing Actually Required

Last year, I was lost. Deeply hurt. Terrified of what the future might hold. I started this blog. I started HTM on Instagram. And then I kind of disappeared. Because I simply wasn’t in a place where I could start a project and actually see it through.

That’s one of the funny things about life after burnout. You become anxious about your future and your finances, so naturally you pressure yourself into finding a solution. Launching something. Making money online. Doing all those things that people on Instagram somehow make look easy.
But those things require time, dedication, and focus. And deep in burnout, you have none of that.

So I disappeared. And I used that time to heal. To reconnect with people I hadn’t spoken to in years. To sleep. A lot. To rest. And to slowly build routines that worked for me and allowed me to manage my energy instead of burning through all of it in one day. Because if you’re going through severe burnout like I was, then you know. Your energy tank is very limited.
And it empties much faster than it fills.
In other words, I went through the non-glamourous phase of life after burnout.

The Decision That Finally Let Me Start Getting Better

After my birthday and my Scotland trip, I moved back in with my parents, if you haven’t read that bit; it’s here : The Last Straw: How I Ended Up Moving Back in With My Parents at almost 28.

I needed the pressure off. I needed to sit down at the table and find a warm meal waiting for me. I needed to go through my day without a pile of laundry or an endless to-do list hanging over my head.
Simply put, I needed someone to take care of daily life for me. And that wasn’t happening with my partner at the time. So I left.

And that’s when I finally began to improve. Don’t get me wrong. Healing wasn’t easy. And it certainly wasn’t a flower-lined path. There were periods when I felt exhausted. Periods when depression came back and anxiety took over. Periods when all I could do was curl myself into a ball.
And that’s okay.
That’s part of the process.

One of the hardest things I learned this year was to stop beating myself up for those moments.
I’m allowed to be sad.
I’m allowed to be anxious.
I’m allowed to have bad periods.
I’m only human.
I can’t always be the one taking care of everyone else.
I can’t always be the one holding people together while forgetting myself.
I’m allowed to be held too.

I’m still learning that one. But I’m trying.

Burnout Guilt Is Real — and I'm Done Carrying It

I also let go of a lot of guilt. Because yes, I felt guilty for burning out. I felt guilty for leaving my job. I felt guilty for leaving a relationship where I wasn’t supported while trying to heal. I don’t think he understood burnout.
And honestly? I think a lot of people don’t understand what burnout can do to your body. Or how deeply it can affect your ability to function.

In November 2025, I moved out again. New apartment. New beginning. I wanted to see whether I could manage daily life on my own again. And honestly, I think that deserves an article of its own.
So I’ll add that to the list.

The Question I Should Have Asked Myself at Twenty-Three

In March, I started asking myself a question. What kind of life do I actually want? What would make sense? What would fulfil me?
I know it sounds cliché. But I burned out at twenty-seven. Twenty-seven. I barely remember that birthday because I was too busy surviving. And in what world is it normal to work from 6 a.m. until 2 a.m. at twenty-seven years old?
In what world is it normal for your job to take up so much space that it swallows everything else? Including yourself.
It’s not, and it’s certainly not what I want out of life. So I started thinking about what a good life would actually look like for me. Not what looked impressive. Not what looked successful. But what would feel good.

And I think I finally got my answer this June.

The Women Who Reminded Me That Building Takes Time

During Download Festival, I stayed in a magnificent Victorian house owned by a truly inspiring woman. She’s a lawyer. She runs her own company. She’s a yoga instructor. She teaches classes from a yoga studio inside her house. And she recently started a wellness coaching business.
All from home. On her own timeline.

I didn’t get to speak with her as much as I would have liked. And I don’t know why, but something about her screamed “burnout survivor” to me. Maybe I’m completely wrong. Maybe that’s just my own experience talking. But I thought she was remarkable.
Truly.

And then there was another woman. A singer I saw perform at Download. Someone who had failed multiple times throughout her life and career. Someone who kept going. Again and again. And there she was, over forty years old, performing on the main stage. And I needed that.

I needed to see these women.
Women who kept building.
Women who kept trying.
Women who kept going.

Because with my birthday came depression. Thoughts about being late. Being behind. Not being where I thought I should be. And I needed the reminder that building takes time.
And that maybe that’s okay.

What I Thought When I Blew Out My Candle Alone

And I think that’s what I want to remember this coming year. I blew out my candle alone. The person I wanted to call didn’t want to talk to me that day. I had cried several times during the days before. But I blew it out anyway.
And I made myself a promise.

27, I was surviving.
28, I was healing.
29, it’s time to rebuild.

And I’m ready for it. Do you know what I thought when I blew out my twenty-ninth candle alone, in the dark, in an Airbnb? Not how lonely I was, nor how difficult the last few years had been. Or how sad I had felt.
No.

I thought: Fuck it. This is for me.
And I smiled.
Because I realized that I’m done trying to hold everyone but myself. I’m done shrinking myself to please others. I’m done forgetting my own needs. I’m rebuilding for me. No one else.
And I think it’s time I start living accordingly.

Life after Burnout — 29 : This is for me

Maybe that’s selfish. Especially since women are taught to be caretakers and people-pleasers. But life after burnout will do that to you.
And maybe it’s actually possible to build relationships where you’re not completely drained. Maybe it’s possible to set boundaries.
And if that disappoints some people? So what?

After years of folding myself into whatever shape everyone else needed me to be, only to feel disappointed when I needed something in return, I decided it wasn’t worth it anymore. And it’s not what I want out of life. Maybe I’ll fail spectacularly. And that’s okay.
Because at least I’ll have tried. I know now that if I don’t, nothing will change.

I’ll go back to the same kind of jobs that burned me out. The same kinds of relationships that drained me. The same overachieving and people-pleasing patterns. Because no matter how much work you do on yourself, it’s always easier to fall back into what you’ve always known than it is to build something different.
But I’m willing to try my luck. And I’ll tell you all about it here.

Because for my twenty-ninth year on this earth, I want to remember this: Healing season may never truly be over. But it’s time to rebuild. To do things differently. To do things for me.
Because like I said—

Fuck it.
This is for me.