Hello Adventurers,

Burnout is real. I think sometimes we forget that. We talk about being tired, needing a break, or being exhausted, and then we push through another day anyway. But burnout is different. Burnout isn’t simply being tired after a long day. It’s that feeling when you’ve been running on empty for so long that even the things you normally enjoy start to feel like work.

And I’ll be honest, I’ve struggled with it too.

This summer has been a lot. When I actually stop and think about everything that has happened over the last few months, I’m not really surprised that I’m feeling it. There was the garden, of course. The rebuild and then the planting, weeding, watering, harvesting, preserving, and trying to keep up with everything as the season seemed to accelerate toward the finish line. Then I built a chicken coop, because apparently I didn’t have enough to do already.

And speaking of chickens, we also got chicks this summer. They’re three weeks old now, which means we’re still another three weeks away from finally being able to move them into the coop. They’re growing like weeds, making a ridiculous amount of noise, and somehow managing to create an incredible amount of work for such tiny creatures. But they are SO adorable!

On top of all of that, I worked on the second edition of my first novel, then continued working on the second novel, and even started writing the beginning of the third. There was and still is YouTube for Nathakra, blog posts for Nathakra, blog posts for this personal blog, and about a dozen other little projects and ideas constantly bouncing around in my head.

And then there were the guests.

Don’t get me wrong, we love having people here. Some of my favourite memories come from sitting around with family and friends, sharing food, laughing, and enjoying each other’s company. But even the things we love can take energy. There is always something to prepare, something to clean, something to organize, something to get ready for. When you add all of that to everything else going on, it can start to pile up.

The funny thing is, none of these things are bad. In fact, most of them are things I genuinely enjoy. I love gardening. I love writing. I love building things. I love creating Nathakra. I love having friends and family over. I love watching those little chicks grow. That’s what makes burnout so easy to overlook. You can be overwhelmed by things you actually love doing.

There is always another project, another idea, another responsibility, another thing that needs to be done. And that’s the problem with being someone who likes to create. There is never really an end.

You finish one project and immediately see three more things you want to build. You finish one book and start thinking about the next. You harvest one crop and realize there are five more that need attention. You finish one video and start planning another. The list doesn’t end, and eventually, neither does the exhaustion.

That’s when I think we need to remind ourselves of something important: it’s okay to stop.

Not forever. Just for a little while.

The garden can wait a day. The unfinished project can sit there. The next video doesn’t have to be made today. The book doesn’t need another chapter tonight. The house doesn’t have to be perfect before you sit down. Sometimes you need to put everything aside and simply breathe.

I’ve always been someone who likes to keep moving. There is something satisfying about looking at a list of things that need doing and slowly checking them off. But this summer has reminded me that there will always be another box to check.

And if you’re not careful, you can spend so much time preparing for the next thing that you forget to actually enjoy the thing you’re doing right now.

We tend to treat rest like something we have to earn. We work hard, accomplish enough, finish enough, and then maybe we give ourselves permission to stop. But rest isn’t a reward. It’s part of the process.

Even the land needs time to recover. You can’t harvest forever. You can’t keep taking from the soil without eventually giving something back. People aren’t any different.

And maybe that’s the lesson I’m still learning, because the truth is, I’m burned out.

Not a little tired. Not just ready for a weekend off. I mean completely and totally burned out.

I’m tired in a way that sleep doesn’t seem to fix. I’m mentally exhausted, physically exhausted, and honestly, there are days when I just don’t feel like doing anything at all. And when you get to that point, burnout brings some other things along with it. Sadness. Frustration. A lack of motivation. Sometimes even depression.

Things that would normally make me happy don’t always feel that way when I’m this exhausted. A project that I would normally be excited to work on can suddenly feel like another obligation. Even looking at everything I’ve accomplished this summer can sometimes make me think about everything I still haven’t done.

That’s the part of burnout that I think we don’t talk about enough. It isn’t always just being tired. Sometimes it changes the way you see everything around you.

And I’m feeling that right now.

So I think I need to give myself permission to slow down.

Not because I’ve earned it. I don’t need earn it. Not because I’ve finished everything. I haven’t. There is still work to do, there are still projects waiting for me, and there will always be another thing on that list.

But because I need it.

The garden is winding down now. The mornings are getting cooler, the evenings are coming earlier, and the first hints of fall are starting to settle in around us. Maybe I need to stop looking at fall as the season where I have to finish everything and start looking at it for what it actually is: a change, a slowing down, a chance to breathe.

After months of planting, growing, building, writing, harvesting, preserving, hosting, creating, and constantly moving from one thing to the next, maybe it’s okay to let things become a little quieter.

Maybe I don’t need to fill every evening with a project.

Maybe I can sit outside with a coffee and enjoy the cool air. Maybe I can take a walk and actually look at the changing leaves instead of thinking about what needs to be done when I get home. Maybe I can enjoy the harvest without immediately thinking about next year’s garden. Maybe I can sit down and play that video game I’ve been itching to play. (Valheim anyone?)

Maybe I can sit and watch those little chicks for a while, knowing that in another three weeks they’ll be out in the coop I built for them.

The garden produced more than I hoped for year one. We built things with our own hands. We have a new flock of chickens growing up. We spent time with people we love. I wrote more stories. I created more of Nathakra. We made memories that I know I’ll look back on fondly.

Those things haven’t disappeared just because I’m exhausted. Neither have the things I’m still looking forward to.

I just need to give myself enough room to actually enjoy them.

So if you’re burned out right now, I hope you can give yourself that same permission. Don’t beat yourself up because you aren’t as productive as you were a few months ago. Don’t convince yourself that resting means you’re falling behind.

Sometimes you aren’t falling behind. Sometimes you’re simply recovering.

And maybe that’s what this season needs to be for me. Not another season of pushing harder, but a season of slowing down. Of enjoying the cooler mornings and darker evenings. Of sitting around the fire. Of spending time with family. Of watching the chickens grow. Of looking back at everything this summer brought and being grateful for it, rather than immediately worrying about what’s next.

I don’t know how long it will take to climb back out of this burnout, and I don’t think I need to know.

For now, I think I’ll just take the next day as it comes.

I’ll do what needs to be done, leave what can wait, and try to remember that life isn’t measured by how much we can accomplish before we finally collapse.

There is more to life than a checklist.

And maybe, for a little while, that’s enough.

Remember, you only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough. Step outside, breathe in the fresh air, listen to the rustling of the falling leaves, and I’ll catch you next time.

Much love, Rob ❤️