A heart letter to the burnt-out, work-weary, and quietly questioning…
… a letter from This Human Experience Newsletter from Jasmin Courtney. To receive my occasional letters on all things human experience, embodiment, somatics, life, mess, creativity, neurodiversity, entrepreneurship and more, I warmly invite you to subscribe.
Hello dear one,
Lately, I’ve been having a lot of conversations with sensitive, creative, thoughtful humans, who are quietly sitting with a gnawing, uncomfortable question:
How do I keep working in a way that doesn’t hollow me out?
Not because they’re lazy or lacking passion. Not because they haven’t “found their purpose.” But because the very scaffolding of work (the systems, expectations, environments) often ask us to override what’s most human in us.
For many, burnout is the starting point. Not just the personal kind (though that matters too), but a deeper unease: a sense that something isn’t quite right with how we’ve been told to live, earn, prove, and survive.
It sparks a pause.
A pull to reflect on what we’re part of.
And what we might want to step out of.
There’s grief in that.
There’s also clarity.
We begin to see the gap:
→ Between the kind of world we long to be part of…
→ And the structures we’re expected to sustain.
Even in workplaces trying to do good. Even in values-driven spaces.
So many of us (especially if we’re neurodivergent, carers, trauma survivors, or walking through the world with more tenderness than it was built for) have internalised the belief that we are the problem. That our burnout is a personal failure. That our inability to “just push through” means we’re not strong enough in some way.
But, our bodies are SO wise!
What if your reluctance to sign up for another job that wants “flexibility” (but only from you) isn’t self-sabotage, but a deep remembering that your nervous system isn’t here just to be optimised for output?
What if your heartbreak about the gap between your values and your work is the proof you still care and that your body knows the way?
The truth is: our culture isn’t structured for wholeness. It’s structured for extraction. Capitalism needs productivity, not presence. It rewards over-functioning, over-delivering, over-giving, often at the expense of the very people it depends on most.
This isn’t just about “bad bosses” or “toxic work culture”. It’s about a system that has equated worth with output. That tells us our value is only as good as what we can produce, package, and sell. Even social change spaces aren’t immune, they often replicate the same pressures, urgency, and top-down structures they claim to resist.
And the body knows.
It keeps the score.
It sends us signals in the form of anxiety, inertia, chronic illness, collapse.
So what do we do with this?
We begin by bringing tenderness to ourselves when we feel stuck.
We stop making it mean we’re broken.
We let our pace and process be sacred.
Because the way forward isn’t only through hustling harder, rebranding our résumés, or striving for the elusive “aligned” career. I’s through noticing what feels congruent. What lets our nervous systems settle into sustainable physiology. What invites our gifts forward into the world, in a way that doesn’t cost us our health, our time with loved ones, or our sense of self.
For some, that means redefining work altogether. Valuing the invisible labour of care, parenting, community tending. Naming unpaid work as real work. Trusting that our lives don’t have to revolve around productivity to be meaningful.
For others, it means naming what no longer works. Saying no. Opting out. Experimenting with slower, stranger, softer ways of being in the world.
It’s not easy. Especially when the dominant culture has trained us to tie our worth to doing.
But I believe this unravelling, this gentle rebellion, is part of something bigger.
A collective remembering that:
🌀 We are not machines.
🌀 Rest is not laziness.
🌀 Purpose doesn’t need to be monetised.
🌀 Worth is not earned, it’s inherent.
🌀 Our gifts are still valid, even if no one’s hiring us to use them.
If you’re in the in-between (burnt out, heart-weary, unsure how to keep going) I want you to know:
You’re not alone.
You’re not failing.
You’re onto something.
You’re part of a wider movement of people who are waking up, slowing down, and daring to imagine something more human. Something more whole.
And maybe, just maybe, that’s the most radical work of all.
With warmth,
Jasmin
Writer, Embodied Social Worker & Founder
P.S. If you ever need a reminder that life isn’t about reaching the finish line, I’m right here, in the middle of it all, with you. 💛
Work with me: https://www.jasmincourtney.com/workwithme
