The Burnout Struggle: Tension Between Doing and Being

I’ve been sitting in a fog lately, the kind that settles in after a season of motion, of overcommitment, of striving, of burnout!

Coming home from a week in Italy, surrounded by beauty and history, I should feel inspired. But truthfully? I feel disconnected.

Sure, maybe it’s jetlag. But I’ve felt this before. Maybe it’s the realization that the world keeps moving without me, that my contribution isn’t as big as I thought. That stings a little more than I’d like to admit.

I find myself hyperaware of others, constantly adjusting, constantly questioning: Do they like me? Did I say too much? Too little? Did I take up too much space? Not enough?

I want calm.

I want peace.

I want everyone to like me and see no fault.

But it comes at a cost.

Lately, I keep hearing a simple phrase whispered to my heart: Just be.

It sounds beautiful. Easy, even.

Just be content.

Just be okay with where you are.

Just sit in it.

But that’s the exact opposite of who I am.

I’m an achiever, wired to build, to grow, to do.

Ask the collection of personal and professional development books on my shelf.

To “just be” feels like giving up.

Like I’m letting go of momentum, letting go of my place at the table.

If I’m not striving, not planning, not making a move… am I still valuable?

Am I boring? Invisible?

I live in this annoying tension, wanting to be everything to everyone, while simultaneously wanting to disappear.

Wanting to share my story, but also wanting to hide.

Wanting to show up, while craving solitude.

Wanting to do everything and nothing at the same time.

But those words keep coming: Just be.

Stop striving.

Stop looking for your next move.

Let the moment be what it is.

Plaster model by Luigi Pampaloni, located in the Gipsoteca Bartolini, Florence, Italy

What does it even mean to just be?

To sit in the stillness of an ordinary moment?

To let the room breathe without managing the temperature?

To let people act and speak as they will, without feeling the need to fix, soften, or interpret?

To be okay with quiet, with boredom, with being seen without producing something?

To believe that my worth isn’t tied to what I do or how I perform, but to who I am: a child of God?

Maybe it means seeing the beauty in the small things:

A handful of dirt.

A quiet morning.

A single deep breath.

Truly seeing people.

I want to be that person.

The one who falls at Jesus’ feet like Mary, instead of hustling in the kitchen like Martha.

But truthfully? I’m a Martha through and through.

I stay busy.

I try to make things better, for myself, for everyone around me.

And I carry this tension:

I have gifts.

I have a calling.

I want to help.

I want to make a difference.

But I also need rest.

I need permission to be human.

So maybe “Just Be” doesn’t mean giving it all up.

Maybe it means bringing it back to the One who gave me these gifts in the first place.

Maybe it means I stop striving and start surrendering.

Lord, this is what You’ve given me.

Use it.

Use me.

Let me get out of the way. But hey, if You need me to do something, could You make the sign really big? Maybe neon, too, so I don’t miss it. K, thanks!

“God is within her, she will not fall; God will help her at break of day.” — Psalm 46:5

Today, I will just be.

And trust that it’s enough.