"You Can't Escape Your Own Life": Healing After Trauma, Burnout, or Big Life Changes
Personal story about recovering from burnout
9/1/20266 min read
I will start this post with a personal story. If you have read some of my previous posts, it might have sounded like my inner journey was filled with curiosity and expansion. And it was, for the most part. But there were also periods of my life that I would rather not remember. I know what it's like to suffer deeply and desperately search for answers. I know what it's like when the only thing you can think about is how to get out of the pain, the anxiety, the panic, the tiredness, the feeling of being in a constant state of alarm. It's only natural that in those moments you obsess over getting better, getting back to your normal life, searching for that feeling of minimal control over your own existence.
If you're in a similar state right now, I want you to know that there is a way out. You are not alone in this, and many people have overcome and healed their anxiety, depression, chronic fatigue, or persistent survival mode. It's possible to find your way back to yourself and build a life that feels truly yours.
When It Happened to Me
This happened to me after many years of therapy, despite all my knowledge, experience, and professional training. Life is a beautiful thing, but I think these were the moments when I realized that life is a dangerous thing too. No matter how much we prepare, how much theory we know, at the end of the day the only thing that really counts is our lived experience. Every one of us has a certain journey to walk through on this earth. Until we find ourselves in certain situations, the truth is — we don't really know how we will react, or what might happen.
So, to get to the point: I experienced a very bad burnout that pushed me to rock bottom, into an abyss as deep as the ocean. I didn't know burnout could be that bad — that it could break your body, turn your mind against you, crush your soul, and pull your heart and lungs out of your chest. I didn't think something like this could ever happen to me, and yet, it did. Burnout usually happens as a consequence of many different things showing up in a short period of time, when the situations we encounter ask more of us than we can handle, and stress exceeds our capacity to meet it. I don't mean the regular life stress we all carry, which in the right amount is even good for us. In my case, it was a genuinely traumatic event, paired with major shifts around work and relationships, while feeling like I didn't have enough support and resources to get myself back on track.
For a couple of years after these events, I felt like my whole world was slowly crumbling into pieces. I couldn't recognize my life anymore. All the methods I knew didn't quite work; I barely recognized myself in such a desolate, dark place. I knew myself as a strong, creative, powerful woman — someone who always has the solution, someone curious, responsible, dedicated, trustworthy. All of a sudden, I wasn't any of that. I was small, fearful, scared, confused, weak, tired all the time. I had unexplainable pain all over my body, bursting headaches, tears in my eyes over small things that normally wouldn't touch me at all. There were levels of anxiety I had never felt in my body or mind before, and I wouldn't wish that feeling on anyone.
But here I am. I clawed my way out. (I'll write a separate post about the nervous system, and how our bodies are wired to react in times of such profound activation.)
"You Can't Escape Your Own Life"
A friend once summarized my experience with a simple sentence: "You can't escape your own life." As harsh as it may sound, it's also true. Things sometimes just happen — things we can't control — and there's no escaping them. But there is a way of going through them.
Now, looking back, I can see how all of this was, in a way, necessary for me. I had certain lessons to learn and a profound transformation to live through. I understand the depth of life now to an extent you can't learn from books or from other people's experiences — only from your own. My life is very different now, and though life is always a process, I dare say it's much better. I don't think we always have to find a justification for suffering. But one thing is sure: if we stay in a victim mindset, asking "why me," we can hardly arrive at a better place.
The Trap of Searching for a Quick Fix
If you're there right now, chances are you're doing exactly what I did during that period. My days were spent frantically searching the internet, hoping to find some trick to save myself from anxiety. I would read an entire book on burnout in a single day, just to find the solution faster. My Instagram feed was overflowing with quick tips and endless hacks for healing my nervous system. But none of it was actually helping. It was simply my mind searching for temporary relief, while my body and emotional capacity quietly drained away before my eyes.
So What Actually Helped?
Paradoxically, what helped was stopping the fight. I stopped fighting myself and my inner states. What helped was accepting where I was, and directing the little energy I had toward something good and pleasant. Instead of reading heavy books about trauma and thinking about how to solve my problems all day, I started reading light, romantic novels. In moments of panic, I would just try to breathe through it, trusting that it would pass. I intentionally rebuilt my capacity for goodness through lived experience. I stopped believing every alarm signal coming from my anxious mind or body, and started looking for signs of comfort instead.
Practically speaking, I can't tell you there is one tool that will perform a miracle and heal you. For most of us, there's a specific combination of things we need to find. Together, they create momentum toward slow but steady progress.
For me, initially there was only one thing that helped — people. Being around people who love me, who care for me, who understood where I was and didn't expect anything from me. And, very importantly, a therapist with the right understanding of my state. But after a while, I understood I still wasn't moving much, and that an underlying fear was still governing my life. I was functional, but it was still hard to make good decisions, hard to see the bigger picture, and every now and then I would fall back into my familiar black hole.
So I started to actively change my state — daily.
Breathwork. One of the first things I did that helped enormously was a three-month breathing course. I had a teacher and mentor who held me accountable and helped me find the right way of doing it for me. If I had just tried it on my own, I probably would have done it wrong and concluded that it simply doesn't work for me. After three months of daily breathing exercises, there were finally moments when I could step outside my own suffering and observe it. It was a true game changer.
Feldenkrais. The second thing I started implementing daily was the Feldenkrais method — small chunks of 15–20 minutes spent feeling my body and slowly unfreezing the emotions hidden inside it. Again, I took a guided course, showing me where to begin and how not to overdo it. The first month was unpleasant, with a lot of emotion coming up, but I learned to pace myself and take breaks whenever something big was trying to move through. After a while, my body started to feel safe inside itself, and I would fall asleep after every session. Finally, after years of distress, my body was craving real rest. I also started to feel enormously empowered: I was the one deciding on my own process — when to stop, when to push through. I started to sense how much I could handle, and learned my true capacity. I wasn't afraid of my sensations and emotions anymore, and it felt so good.
Everything else, gradually. I did all sorts of other things along the way: I educated myself further about trauma and burnout and their effects on the brain and body — this time from a different perspective and at a slower pace. I used visualization and prayer. I introduced regular physical activity like running and the gym (I made a lot of mistakes here, and it's important to know when to start exercising again). I took care of my blood sugar and my diet. I changed jobs and let go of things I no longer wanted to do. I resolved relationships that were no longer supporting me, and moved to another country after falling in love.
In other words, I started living again, and stopped focusing solely on my trauma and my healing. I gently and gradually opened myself to life in all its shades, risking the possibility that opening myself to pleasure might also mean experiencing pain.
It Was the Hardest Thing I've Ever Done
It sounds like a lot of work — and it was. It was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life. But I did it, and that's why I know it's possible.
The point of this text is simple: when faced with hard life situations, with the right support, knowledge, and tools, it's possible to overcome them. There is a new version of you waiting on the other side — not better, not worse, just different. Someone who has gone through something tough, and survived. Someone who knows themselves better. Someone with a greater capacity for life — the good and the bad, the light and the shadow, the love and the fear.