20/07/2025

ON SUNDAY JULY 20, 2025 theSunday Special XII Y OU’RE the dependable one. The fixer. The person who remembers birthdays, steps in when colleagues fall short, checks in on family, handles the admin when someone passes and never makes a fuss about it. You’re not the dramatic friend who breaks down or the one who causes worry. You’re the steady one, the one who always seems to have a grip on things, the one others describe as “strong” or “reliable”.

And maybe you are. But lately, that strength has started to feel more like a weight than a virtue. You’re tired in a way that sleep doesn’t touch. You go through the motions, get things done, but inside, it feels like you’re surviving on fumes. Your mind is foggy, your body is slow and \RXU HPRWLRQV DUH ÀDWOLQHG

The invisible exhaustion of high-functioning people

emotionally immune. When you’re wise, they forget that insight doesn’t equal invincibility. But you’re not a machine. You’re a person. You need softness, too. Sometimes, the most courageous thing you can do is admit: “I’m not okay. I need help. I can’t carry all of this alone.” Burnout isn’t something you outsmart. It doesn’t go away because you went on a weekend retreat or bought a scented candle. It eases when you change the conditions that caused it. When you say no more often. When you drop the ball on purpose. When you let the WhatsApp message sit unread. When you go to therapy, cancel plans or call in tired instead of powering through. Healing starts with permission. To rest before collapse. To speak before you snap. To matter even when you’re not holding it all. Y RX GRQ¶W KDYH WR HDUQ UHVW Many of us, especially women, carers and eldest children, believe rest must EH MXVWL¿HG 7KDW XQOHVV \RX¶UH YLVLEO\ overwhelmed or breaking down, you haven’t earned the right to pause. But rest isn’t a reward. It’s a biological need. You’re allowed to lie down without explaining why. You’re allowed to feel tired even when others have it harder. You’re allowed to care for yourself before the crash. If any part of this feels uncomfortably familiar, consider this your quiet permis sion slip: to step back, slow down and VZLWFK R̆ 7R OHDYH WKH JURXS FKDW 7R FU\ if you need to. To say, “I’m not available right now.” Being the strong one might earn re spect. However, being honest and whole will save you. You don’t owe the world your constant coping. You owe it to yourself to be pres ent, even if nobody claps for it.

Burnout doesn’t always look dramatic. 5QOGVKOGU KV YGCTU C VKF[ QWVƓV CPUYGTU messages and suffers in silence

BY CECELIA FONG

The body, ever loyal, finds a way to keep you moving. You meet deadlines. Run errands. Even make jokes over lunch. Meanwhile, your inner world is frayed. You can’t remember the last time you felt excited. You want to cancel everything and crawl into a quiet room. But you don’t. This is high-functioning burnout. Com mon among caretakers, overachievers and anyone raised to manage others’ emotions before their own. It wears the face of competence but eats away at the roots of joy, clarity and connection. The irony? The more burnt out you feel, the more people lean on you, because you’re still getting things done. T KH LQYLVLEOH EXUQRXW FKHFNOLVW • You might be burnt out if: • You feel disconnected from things that once lit you up • You sleep, but wake up tired • You avoid phone calls and unread messages • You fantasise about disappearing, just for a while • You feel simmering anger with no clear source • You cry in private, then pull yourself together None of this makes you fragile. It makes you human. And in need of something more than sleep. You need space. Stillness. Safety. When you’re always the helper, people assume you have it all together. When you’re articulate, they presume you’re

Many of us, especially women, carers and eldest children, believe rest must be justified.”

Always coping … burnout often hides behind a façade of competence.