When Everything Breaks at Once: A Raw Account of Burnout

Writing this from under a lemon tree because my room is too dark and I can’t handle darkness right now

I haven’t written in weeks because I’ve been drowning. Not metaphorically. Literally gasping for air, wondering how much longer I can keep my head above water.

Today, I broke down completely. Sat on my couch, then stood up crying, then dropped to the floor still crying because nowhere felt comfortable. For the first time in my life, I genuinely wanted to stop existing. Not because I want to hurt myself, but because I’m so tired of this hamster wheel that I can’t get off.

Let me tell you what the past two weeks looked like, because if you’re reading this and thinking “at least my life isn’t that bad,” maybe it will help. Or if you’re reading this and thinking “holy shit, that’s exactly my life,” then you’ll know you’re not alone in this particular kind of hell.

The 10-Hour Mandate (AKA How to Break Your Employees)

My toxic company situation has reached peak dystopia. About two months ago, our CEO announced that all product managers, engineers, everyone must work a minimum of 10 hours per day. Not just work 10 hours — we have to schedule our tasks for 10 hours and track them on JIRA tickets. Move them from “To Do” to “In Progress” to “Done” like we’re children who can’t be trusted.

But it’s gotten worse. Over the past month, they’ve ramped up the micromanaging to levels I didn’t think were possible.

Let me break down what my days actually look like now:

7:00 AM: Wake up (if meetings start at 7:30) or 7:30 AM (if they start at 8:00) 8:00–11:45 AM: Back-to-back meetings. No breaks. No bathroom breaks unless I mute and pray no one asks me a direct question. 12:00–1:00 PM: “Lunch break” which is actually: decompress from morning chaos, cook for my mom who has undiagnosed psychosis, hide her medicine in food because she won’t take it willingly, cook for my two dogs because they deserve better than just kibble, eat something myself while standing in the kitchen 1:00–5:00 PM: Try to do actual work from the morning’s meetings while people Slack me about “urgent” projects that changed scope for the fourth time this month 5:00–8:30 PM: “Personal time” which is: cook dinner, clean up, walk dogs, pretend I have energy for hobbies (I don’t), manage my mom’s delusions about not being able to move to our new house 8:30–10:00 PM: BACK ONLINE for more work because 10 hours wasn’t enough apparently 10:00–11:00 PM: Shower, try to decompress enough to sleep, fail, scroll TikTok until I pass out

Where exactly is the time for myself in this schedule? Where’s the time to study for interviews? Where’s the time to be human?

The Interview That Broke Me

I had three interviews lined up with a FAANG company on August 4th. Three weeks to prepare. Sounds reasonable, right?

But those three weeks were anything but quiet study time. The weekends before August 1st, I was hosting my nieces at our new house (an hour away from where I currently live), preparing the campervan for rentals, dealing with logistics. Never a moment of peace.

August 1st: Cousin’s traditional wedding ceremony (monk blessing) in the afternoon, friend’s master’s graduation party in the evening. I’m an introvert. Large social gatherings drain me. But these were important people in my life.

August 2nd: Wedding tea ceremony in the morning, wedding reception in the evening. More people, more energy I didn’t have to give.

August 3rd: Finally, study time! Except I slept in because I was exhausted and mildly depressed from drinking at the wedding and not sleeping enough. Alcohol + sleep deprivation = depression spiral for me.

August 4th: Interview day. I woke up feeling like I was going to throw up. Spent the entire morning gagging from anxiety. I’ve noticed this pattern since I was a kid — when my parents used to fight, I’d get inexplicably sleepy during the conflict, then wide awake after. Same thing happened: sleepy before interviews, wired after.

I know I didn’t perform my best. How could I? My brain was fried from work, my body was exhausted from socializing, and my nervous system was in full panic mode.

When The Universe Decides to Pile On

August 5th-7th: Flew to a conference I desperately didn’t want to attend. When it was announced six weeks ago, I stayed quiet hoping no one would volunteer me. Of course, someone from sales said I had to go. Because being burnt out and having three interviews wasn’t enough stress.

While I was at the conference, dealing with networking when all I wanted was to hide in my hotel room, I got a text: the guests renting my campervan hit a bollard returning it. Now I have to deal with insurance claims, estimates, repairs — more administrative bullshit when I’m already drowning.

August 8th: Back to work, still processing interview disappointment, dealing with van damage.

August 9th-10th: Finally. Blessed weekend. I told my partner I couldn’t see her and her son because I had nothing left to give. Slept in, scrolled TikTok, started writing again. By Sunday night, I thought I was recovering.

Monday, August 11th: Work started again. The stress hit immediately.

Tuesday, August 12th (today): Complete breakdown.

The Moment I Broke

I was dropping off my campervan for repair estimates — a 30-minute drive each way. I thought it would be quick, that I’d drive it there and back. Instead, I had to leave it and call a Lyft home.

Sitting in that Lyft, tears just started rolling down my face. No sobbing, no dramatic moment — just silent tears I couldn’t control. Same thing happened during my back-to-back meetings from 8–11:45 AM. Just sitting there, camera on, nodding along to pointless discussions about processes that will change next week anyway, with tears streaming down my face.

When I got home, I sat on my couch and completely fell apart. I stood up, still crying. Dropped to the floor, still crying, because nowhere felt comfortable. My body felt impossibly heavy.

And for the first time in my life, I genuinely wanted to stop existing.

Not because I want to hurt myself — I’m terrified of pain. Not because I don’t have spiritual beliefs about what comes next. But because I’m so bone-deep exhausted that the idea of not having to wake up tomorrow felt like relief.

I’ve been having these thoughts since August 4th. On the plane to the conference, I caught myself hoping it would just crash so I wouldn’t have to keep doing this. Then immediately felt guilty because there were other people on the plane who didn’t deserve that.

I keep thinking how easy it would be if I could just… stop. But I’m not brave enough for pain, and spiritually, I don’t want to repeat this life — I want to grow through it and move forward. It’s just so fucking uncomfortable right now.

The Caregiving Reality No One Talks About

Here’s what people don’t understand about my situation: I’m not just dealing with work burnout. I’m caring for my mom who has undiagnosed psychosis. She could die any day, and she requires constant care — cooking, medication hidden in food, managing her delusions.

She thinks she can’t move to our new house where my partner and her 9-year-old son live. Every conversation about the move triggers more delusions. I’m stuck between two homes an hour apart, two lives, trying to care for everyone while slowly disappearing myself.

My partner wants to spend time together, but I can’t handle her son’s noise when I’m this raw. I need peace and quiet to recharge, and there’s nowhere to find it. We’re trying to merge our lives between my current home and our new house an hour away, but every transition feels impossible when I’m this drained.

Why I’m Writing This Now

I’m sitting under the lemon tree in my backyard because my room is too dark and darkness makes everything worse right now. I haven’t written in weeks because I’ve been too tired to think clearly, but today I realized: this is exactly when I need to write.

Not when I have it figured out. Not when I can wrap it up with inspirational insights. Right now, when everything is broken and I don’t know how to fix it.

If you’re reading this and you’re also barely surviving — you’re not alone. If you’re reading this and thinking “at least my life isn’t that bad” — maybe it will give you perspective.

And if you’re reading this and you’re my boss (hi Steve), this is what your 10-hour mandate actually looks like in a human life.

What Happens Next

I don’t know. In 2023, I quit this same job without anything lined up because I needed time to care for my mom. They forgot I quit, apparently, because here I am again. I’m seriously considering doing it again.

But this time, I’m also considering FMLA leave. Not just for my mom’s care, but for my own mental health. I need to find myself again before I lose myself completely. I can’t give anything to anyone else when I have nothing left for me.

I’m terrified of retaliation — that they’ll just fire me before I can even take the leave. I reached out to my therapist but she’s on vacation until the 18th, so I’m researching on my own. California SDI, FMLA applications, company notifications — it all feels overwhelming when my brain can barely function. But this is the moment I know I need it.

I felt I could have done better on the FAANG interviews. The work situation is unsustainable. My mom needs more care than I can give while working these hours. Something has to break, and I’d rather it be the job than me.

I’ll update you on the FMLA journey — the fear, the process, whatever happens. Maybe it will help someone else who’s drowning like I am.

But right now, I’m just sitting under this lemon tree, feeling the sun on my face, trying to remember that there’s a world outside of JIRA tickets and Zoom calls.

UPDATE: As I’m literally sitting here trying to post this at 8pm, my boss just called me because he woke up in India. I can’t even have personal time to process my mental health crisis. This is exactly the problem I’m writing about.

If you made it this far, thank you for witnessing this mess. Sometimes being seen in our brokenness is the first step toward healing.

More when I can breathe again.

If you’re struggling with thoughts of not wanting to exist, please reach out to someone. 988 is the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline.

If you want to support burnt-out writers processing their chaos: https://ko-fi.com/ntmeyb