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Burnout doesn’t always scream. Sometimes, it just silences everything.

I Thought I Was Lazy-Turns Out I Was Just Numb

The burnout didn’t look like fire. It looked like nothingness.


I Wasn’t Just Tired. I Was Gone.

For the longest time, I thought I was just a lazy person.

I’d wake up late, move through the day in a fog, avoid anything remotely challenging, and beat myself up for not “trying hard enough.” My to-do list mocked me from the desk. Laundry piled up. Emails went unanswered. Even small things like replying to a message felt like lifting a truck.

I didn’t tell anyone how empty I felt. I was embarrassed. Everyone else seemed to be managing life just fine, so what was wrong with me?

What I didn’t know was that I wasn’t lazy at all.

I was numb.


The Struggle: When Everything Felt Like Too Much

There wasn’t a single dramatic moment where I collapsed in tears or rage-quit my job.

Instead, it was this slow erosion of energy, joy, and care. I stopped reaching out to friends. I stopped reading books. I stopped cooking, something I used to love. Days bled into nights, and I couldn’t even remember what I did all day. I just… existed.

Here’s what really hit me: I didn’t even feel sad.

I felt nothing.

No anxiety. No panic. Just this gray stillness that coated everything, like emotional dust. I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t laugh. I couldn’t care.

But somehow, I still managed to show up barely. I met deadlines. Smiled in meetings. Said “I’m good, just tired” when asked. It was a mask I wore so well that even I started to believe it.

Deep down, though, I knew something was off. And worse I blamed myself.

“Why are you like this?”

“You’re just lazy.”

“Everyone else is tired and still gets stuff done.”

I thought rest would help, so I took breaks. But no amount of sleep or Netflix or social media scrolling brought me back to life. If anything, they just dulled me further.

I didn’t know I was burnt out because burnout didn’t look like chaos for me.

It looked like nothingness.


The Turning Point: One Quiet Question

It wasn’t therapy or a book or a podcast that cracked the numbness open. It was a quiet question from a friend over coffee.

We hadn’t seen each other in months, and she noticed I seemed distant, distracted.

She asked gently:

“Do you still feel like you?”

I froze. Because I hadn’t thought about that in a long time.

Did I feel like myself?

Not really.

When did I stop feeling like me?

I didn’t even remember.

That night, I couldn’t sleep. Her question kept echoing in my head. I started journaling, which I hadn’t done in years, and what spilled out was shocking.

I wrote, “I miss me.”

I missed the version of myself who was curious, silly, creative. The one who made spontaneous playlists and painted even if it was messy. The one who cared deeply. The one who could sit in silence and actually feel peace not vacancy.

That one sentence I miss me was the beginning of everything changing.


The Realization: I Wasn’t Lazy. I Was Disconnected.

Burnout doesn’t always scream.

Sometimes, it whispers.

Sometimes, it numbs.

Sometimes, it convinces you that you’re the problem.

It took me months to unravel what had happened. But here’s what I realized:

I had spent years pushing myself emotionally and mentally, never acknowledging how much I was carrying. I never processed grief, loss, or fear I just kept moving. Because stopping felt scary.

So my body and mind eventually did the stopping for me.

That disconnection I felt? That was my nervous system tapping out. That was my brain saying “enough.” It wasn’t weakness. It was self-protection.

I wasn’t lazy. I was running on empty with a broken fuel gauge.


What Helped Me Come Back to Life

No single thing “fixed” me. But these small shifts helped me return to myself:

    • Naming it. Saying out loud, “I think I’m burnt out,” gave me permission to stop pretending I was fine.
    • Slowing down. I cut down on my workload even if it meant disappointing others. Survival mattered more.
    • Feeling the feelings. I let the emotions come, finally. The grief, the guilt, the anger. I cried in the shower. I wrote angry letters I never sent. I made space for the full mess.
    • Doing small things that feel like me. Making music. Walking barefoot. Dancing badly. These things didn’t solve anything, but they softened something inside me.

It wasn’t about becoming “productive” again.

It was about remembering I was a person, not a machine.


If You Feel Numb Too, You’re Not Alone

Here’s something I wish someone had told me when I was deep in it:

Laziness is often grief in disguise. Or fear. Or burnout. Or exhaustion that’s gone so deep, you forget what rested even feels like.

If you’re in that space right now where everything feels like too much and too little at the same time I want you to know this:

You’re not broken.

You’re not lazy.

You’re carrying more than anyone can see.

And maybe, just maybe, it’s time to put it down.


One Sentence I Now Live By


You don’t need to push harder you need to feel again.

And that’s where real healing begins.


Motiur Rehman

Written by

Motiur Rehman

Experienced Software Engineer with a demonstrated history of working in the information technology and services industry. Skilled in Java,Android, Angular,Laravel,Teamwork, Linux Server,Networking, Strong engineering professional with a B.Tech focused in Computer Science from Jawaharlal Nehru Technological University Hyderabad.

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