a woman’s journey through burnout and back – eShe

By Aruna Joshi

There are moments when you feel exhausted, and one night’s sleep is enough to restore your energy. But there are also times when, despite ample rest, the tiredness doesn’t go away. You feel drained to the core. It’s a sign that not just your body, but even your soul, needs rest.

Back in 2017, I found myself drowning in that second kind of exhaustion. Life was a relentless juggling act – caring for my ageing in-laws in their final years, managing a home, keeping up with my career, staying on top of the finances, while never really looking after myself.

In the midst of all this, I was also going through menopause. The timing couldn’t have been more overwhelming. My body demanded attention through mood swings, aching joints, hot flashes and waves of emotional fragility.

But I couldn’t afford to stop. If I fell apart, what would happen to the world I held together? So, I ignored it all and pushed through. Kept showing up for others, while slowly disappearing from my own life.

Burnout crept in like a slow leak. It was more like a fading of joy, energy and desire. I spoke to my husband sometimes, voicing the weight I was carrying. He understood, but he was carrying his own burdens too – his parents’ declining health, rising expenses and career pressures. We were both silently drowning in our own ways.

Without realising it, I had slipped into what I now call the victim zone – a place where everything feels unfair, where resentment simmers quietly, and where loneliness sets up home in your heart. And the deeper I sank into it, the harder it became to climb out.

The wake-up call

Life has a way of taking care of everybody. And there came the wake-up call from a dear friend. Every time we met, she would ask, “Are you okay? You don’t look so well.”

At first, I brushed it off. “Just tired,” I’d say, or, “It’s been a hectic week.” However, her repeated concern began to irritate me. Why couldn’t she just offer a compliment like everyone else?

And then I realised – it was coming from love. She was being honest because she cared deeply. And slowly, her words began to echo in my mind.

One day, I truly looked at myself in the mirror. The woman staring back had deep shadows under her eyes. Her skin looked dull. Her hair had lost its bounce. I thought, Maybe I need to fix this.

So, I did what many of us do. I tried to fix it from the outside. I went to salons, got facials, changed shampoos, bought serums. For a day or two, I’d feel a bit better. But soon, the same tiredness, the same emptiness, returned.

That’s when it hit me: this wasn’t about my skin, or my hair, or a missed night of sleep.

The realisation struck during one of those mirror encounters. I looked into my own eyes – really looked – and what stared back at me was a kind of sadness I hadn’t allowed myself to feel. The next moment, I broke down in tears.

I wasn’t just physically tired. My soul was exhausted.

The climb back

Acknowledging that I was not okay became my first act of healing. I didn’t know what recovery would look like. But I knew I couldn’t keep living on autopilot.

So, I paused. Not just physically, but mentally, emotionally, spiritually. I gave myself permission to rest, without guilt. I began to pull away from the additional responsibilities that I had taken voluntarily. I stopped saying yes out of habit. And I asked for help – something I had always hesitated to do.

I discovered that my perfectionism had become a prison. Everything had to be just right. But life doesn’t work that way – especially not when you’re juggling too many roles.

I started letting go.

I reconnected with the quietest part of myself. I walked in silence. Sat with trees. Let tears fall freely. I slowly began to feel the fog lifting. But healing wasn’t linear. Some days felt like progress; others were a step back. But every small act of self-kindness became a brick in the path back to myself.

Burnout didn’t just drain me. It stripped away the illusions I had built my life around. It brought me back to truth.

The lessons I carry with me now

You don’t have to earn your rest. You are allowed to pause before you’re completely spent. You don’t need to reach breaking point to justify your need for care.

Being everything to everyone is a dangerous myth. We are not meant to be constantly available, endlessly giving, always strong. That version of womanhood is unsustainable and unfair.

Menopause is not just hormonal – it’s spiritual. It’s a profound inner transformation. A shedding of one identity and the beginning of another. And it deserves reverence, not avoidant silence.

Victimhood is a trap. It feels justified at first. But it keeps you powerless. The moment you reclaim your voice, even shakily, you begin to move toward healing.

Recovery is slow. But each honest conversation, each boundary drawn, each quiet moment of listening to your own heart – it all counts.

If you’re reading this and nodding, please don’t wait for the breakdown. Start small.

Say no when you need to. Ask for help. Cry if you must. Trust your body. Listen to your soul.

Today, I am still learning how to live in alignment with my truth. I am still unlearning the belief that my worth lies in my usefulness. I am not only calmer now, but also stronger.

When the soul gets tired, it doesn’t need fixing. It needs gentleness, silence, space and a lot of love. Coming back to myself has been the hardest, most important journey of my life. And I am still walking it – slowly, one honest step at a time.

Aruna Joshi is a Mumbai-based author and former architect who spent 18 years designing spaces before turning to crafting words. Through her work, she blends practical wisdom with heartfelt insight to help people live with more balance, meaning and joy. She has written four books, including Wake Up, The Happiness Manual, The Subtle Art of Dealing with People, and Morning Mastery. Follow her on Substack at Zen Whispers.