Burnout Is Not a Personal Failure
What Lawn Mowers, DoorDash, and My Inner Critic Taught Me About Reclaiming Worth Outside of Grind Culture
You Can’t Appreciate Where You Are Until You Name Where You’ve Been
If you’ve been reading my content, then you know I am pretty raw and real. I openly talk about my neurodivergent experiences, life at home, my journey as a PhD student, and also about the good and the bad.
I can’t begin to wrap my head around what it’s been like to get where I am—growing up undiagnosed, not having stable money, not having the kind of community access some folks have and don’t even appreciate. And you know what? That was okay.
But sometimes we get so wrapped up in what we don’t have, because what you may want or need is thrown in your face 24/7. I mean in every space and every ideal. From the movies, TV shows, church, and sometimes even within our own people—family and friends. And that right there is what you have to stay woke about.
And it’s hard—especially when you have AuDHD and feel like you’ve got a little shadow on your left shoulder reminding you of everything you didn’t do, and one on your right shoulder trying to cheer you on. Juggling that is a full-time job. My intrusive thoughts can spiral fast, leave me exhausted, unmotivated, and make me want to lie down and hide.
Call it the inner critic, call it intrusive thoughts—they’re a pain in the ass. So when that happens and I can’t shake it, I write, take some deep breaths, or lay down. Writing centers me. It’s literally helping me write this right now. It helps me look at what I do have, what I’ve overcome, and how I still keep showing up—even when it’s hard.
The Self-Doubt Is Lying—Check the Receipts
So I encourage you to look at what you do have. Appreciate it. Take note of it. The self-doubt is lying to you.
Here’s the truth for me: I may not be rich, but I have parents whom I dearly love, two amazing pups, a beautiful daughter (she’s figuring things out at her pace and that’s okay), and my husband—who despite his PTSD, his memory struggles, and daily pain—is a rock for me. Someone I can count on if shit hits the fan.
Anywho, I say this to remind you that what you do have is golden, even if you can’t always see it in the moment, especially in a tough season. Remind yourself of what you’re proud of. The people who show up. The small wins, the big growth, the shit you’ve overcome that you sometimes forget even happened. I forget it too—my neurodivergence be doing the most. If you know, you know.
The Problem Isn’t You—It’s the Standard You Were Told to Aspire To
For example, I’m behind on some of my readings for my certification course. And it’s not because I’m not trying. I struggle with reading and processing. I forget what I read and can’t always retain it. It’s frustrating, and it spirals me into thinking things like: “Why am I so dumb? Why can’t I keep up? What’s wrong with me?”
Also, I’m neurodivergent—ADHD, autistic, and I live with depression and anxiety. My circadian rhythm is different. My sleep? A mess. I am not a morning person. I can’t function at 6 a.m. My most productive time is around 9 a.m., and I typically don't have one-on-ones until 11 a.m. or later. That’s my capacity. That’s my normal. That’s my truth.
When it comes to reading, I need both a physical and digital copy. I need lists. I need to repeat things. I need time to process. And I’ve found tools that help me go at a pace that actually works for me. That’s the standard I should aspire to—not some Western grind model that doesn’t take my needs or brain into account.
Yep—that’s me. And it makes me sad when I forget that. When I try to force myself into systems that don’t consider my existence or way of being. But then I remember, my way is valid. My process is sacred. My pace is mine.
The Breakdown Was Just a Pause—Not the End
So yeah, I had a breakdown this week. I felt bad about not being caught up on my readings. It spiraled fast. But I feel better now.
And I want to tell you—when you hit that place, that low where the intrusive thoughts take over—don’t believe everything your mind says. That inner critic gets really loud when we’re exhausted, overwhelmed, or under-resourced. It will lie to you. Take a breath. Step back. Come home to yourself.
Overachiever Schedules Will Have You Crying in Your Calendar
Are you a scheduler? A list-maker? Because I am. I sometimes create these overly ambitious schedules that don’t match my actual capacity. Then I don’t follow them. Then I beat myself up. Then I ask: “Why the hell can’t I just stick to this and do it?”
And what sucks is I go into full-on stimming, self-pity, and I get frozen. So frozen I can’t even move forward from the disappointment I’m feeling in myself. It’s like a shame trap disguised as productivity.
When Survival Becomes the Inner Critic
Let’s talk about the next bitch: the inner critic.
If you’ve ever experienced verbal abuse or cared for someone with combat PTSD, then you know—people behave in ways that are shaped by their illness. My husband has his ups and downs. His hearing isn’t great, so sometimes I think he’s yelling when he’s not. Before therapy, he’d lash out a lot. And that was hard. I used to personalize it. I started living in my head.
Anytime I felt bad, I’d go mute. He’d get upset, and I’d just go silent—like Charlie Brown listening to a teacher. All I’d hear was “wah wah wah.” Not because I was ignoring him, but because that was my self-preservation kicking in.
Now, that exact survival mechanism has turned into a really annoying inner critic. It’s in the back of my head all the time. I love structure, but some days I say “f*ck it,” and I want to freestyle. Then, when I don’t stick to the plan, the inner critic calls me out: “You’re lazy. You’re not meeting your standard. You’re failing.”
It gets so loud, I go quiet. I lose my bubbly self. I shut down and spiral into a mini depressive episode.
But I’ve gotten better at managing it. I play music in my headphones. I keep the TV on low in the background. Sometimes I’ll listen to Christian music, or reggaetón, or hip hop—whatever I need to pull myself back into myself.
Cutting Grass and Hustling Ain’t Glamorous—But It’s Real
So what did you do on Saturday?
Me? I cut my lawn. And not that quick 20-minute patch of grass. I mean a full 1.5-hour sweatfest (I have a .7 acre yard). Since I cut back on lawn services after my layoff, I’ve been doing it myself. That day? I was dizzy and almost passed out. Probably shouldn’t have been mowing in 89-degree weather. But I got it done. The backyard, anyway. The front? That’s for another day.
And I felt proud. I’ve got so much respect for people in landscaping—this is hard-ass work.
Afterward, I showered, jumped in the pool, and let the cool water remind me that I did something hard.
Then I hopped in the car and did some Uber and DoorDash. Because sometimes when you’re building a business after losing a job, you need plan C. It’s not glamorous. It doesn’t always feel aligned. But it helps. And it matters.
Grace Finds You When You Don’t Even Know You Need It
On Sunday morning, I went to church. I don’t usually go, but when my mom was in town (she’s deeply religious), I would accompany her every Sunday, so it was part of my routine. Hence, I decided to go because I know she still wants me to attend the church services, so I did.
I sat there alone, feeling this wave of sadness wash over me. Missing her. Wondering if I’m really alone in this season. When the priest told us to raise our heads and pray together, a young boy sat beside me and held my hand. I almost bawled. But I held it in.
Later, when we were told to say “peace be with you” to our neighbors, that same boy turned to me and hugged me. It felt so deep. So honest. Like the universe was saying, “I see you.”
When I turned to shake the man’s hand behind me, he said, “Thank you for your kindness.” That’s when I realized—that was his son.
That moment stayed with me. That hug. That peace. That reminder that I am not alone.
Final Thread: Be Kind to Yourself When the Bitches Come for You
The inner critic. The to-do list that mocks you. The schedule that sets you up. The intrusive thoughts. The survival-mode coping. The grief, the hustle, the healing.
All of it is happening at once—and you’re still here.
That alone is enough. That alone is resilience.
So next time your inner bully starts talking shit?
Turn up your music.
Cut your grass.
Write your words.
Do your DoorDash.
SO do what feels right to you.
And remember:
You’re dealing with shit most people can’t even begin to comprehend or have the cojones to move through it like you do. So, know this: you’re not late. You’re not less.
You’re just building something in the mids of the bullshit.
Keep going.
Your way.
You got this.
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Until Next Time, yours truly
Itzel
@theunfoldingroom™
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