I’m Not Burnt Out. I’m Just Done. But Still Logging In.

Burnout is too active a word.
Burnout sounds like something dramatic happened — like I exploded in a boardroom or left a flaming laptop on someone’s desk.

That’s not me.
I’m not burnt out.
I’m just… done.

Done like a rotisserie chicken.
Done like a Netflix series you keep watching even though you hate every character and the plot went to hell two seasons ago.

But I still log in.
Every morning.
Laptop open, fake smile engaged, caffeine applied like spackle.

I make eye contact with the Zoom camera the same way hostages do — blinking just enough to suggest I’m still alive.
I nod during meetings I’m not mentally in.
I say “great point” to things I didn’t hear.
I use phrases like “circling back” and “touch base” like a corporate Ouija board, trying to summon relevance.

I used to care.
I used to stay late, pitch ideas, overuse exclamation points in emails.
Now I measure my success by how many people think I’m busy enough to leave alone.

My Slack status says “in focus mode.”
I haven’t focused since 2022.

People talk about work-life balance like it’s a seesaw.
Mine’s more like a broken hammock: technically suspended, but slowly collapsing.

I daydream about becoming a barista, or a trail guide, or someone who builds cabins in places where phones die on purpose.
But then I remember I like health insurance and panic scroll my inbox just to feel employed again.

So yeah, I’m not burnt out.
I’m just done.
But you’ll still get that Q3 report on time.
Because I’m also scared of being replaced by a 25-year-old with better fonts.