The Tale of Two Writers — And the Quiet Cost of Burnout
I want to share a story. One I have seen in a clinical setting unfolded more times than I can count in real life.
Two screenwriters.
Same deadline.
Six months to deliver a complex, layered script.
Same pressure. Same goal. Same starting line.
But the way they ran their races? Completely different.
Let's start with Writer A. She's the definition of driven.
Always ahead of schedule. Type-A. Meticulous.
She took the assignment and locked herself into a routine so rigid, it left no room to breathe.
She was up before sunrise.
Writing in blocks so long that she forgot to eat.
Surviving on protein bars, iced coffee, and maybe a handful of almonds between meetings.
Sleep? A luxury.
Rest? A threat to her productivity.
She truly believed that if she pushed hard enough, she'd earn the right to rest afterward.
And to her credit, she finished the script.
On time.
On target.
But by the end of those six months?
She was a shell of herself.
Emotionally drained.
Physically depleted.
Hair thinning. Period irregular. Brain fog thick enough to get lost in.
Her body was in fight-or-flight. Constantly.
She was snapping at friends.
Losing words mid-sentence.
Waking up tired and going to bed wired.
Now let's talk about Writer B.
Same job. Same deadline.
But she chose a different rhythm rooted in wisdom, not just willpower.
She started by designing her days around energy, not urgency.
Writing in focused sprints, then stepping away.
Stretching. Drinking herbal teas. Eating warm, nourishing meals, she took time to cook.
She blocked off non-negotiable time for rest.
She practiced breathwork before stressful scenes.
She journaled when her mind felt heavy.
And she permitted herself to shut it all down every night — screens off, candles lit, body still.
From a Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) lens, she was doing something profound:
Supporting her Liver Qi, protecting her Spleen, and preserving her Jing — her deep essence, life force.
She understood that when stress stagnates the Liver, creativity can't flow.
When digestion is ignored, energy production suffers.
When you chronically overwork, you borrow from your reserves—the Jing—and those don't come back easily.
By the end of the six months, both scripts were done.
Both were praised.
But only one writer walked away burned out.
The other? She felt clear. Calm. Creative.
Ready for the next challenge.
Here's the part most people miss:
Burnout isn't always loud.
Sometimes it looks like success.
Sometimes it looks like discipline.
But underneath? The body is begging for mercy.
Western culture loves to glamorize the grind.
But in TCM, we're taught something different:
The body isn't a machine — it's a garden.
You can't force it to bloom.
You have to cultivate it.
And that means:
Sleep when you're tired.
Eating foods that ground and nourish you.
Saying no when your nervous system is already in overdrive.
Creating space for your energy to rise and fall — because it will, no matter how strong your willpower is.
Writer A treated herself like a machine. She got the work done — but at a cost.
Writer B treated herself like a living system. She respected her body's cycles, listened to its cues, and worked with it instead of against it.
And I'll tell you this:
They both succeeded.
But only one of them was still whole when it was over.
This isn't just a story about screenwriters.
It's about all of us — the professionals, the creatives, the caregivers, the overachievers.
We've been taught that rest is a reward for hard work.
But in reality?
Rest is part of the work.
It's where your clarity lives.
It's where your real strength is built.
Because let's be honest:
You don't create magic from a place of depletion.
You create it from alignment. From stillness. From being deeply, unapologetically well.
So here's what I'll leave you with:
Knowledge is a tool.
But intuition and self-awareness? Those are your superpowers.
Working hard can get you there.
But working smart lets you stay there.
Your creativity doesn't thrive in chaos.
It thrives in safety. In nourishment. In balance.
Photo by Andreas Fickl on Unsplash
Burnout is not a badge of honor.
It's a red flag.
A whisper from your body saying, "Hey... this pace isn't sustainable."
Listen before it becomes a scream.
Rest. Recharge. Reflect.
Treat your body like the sacred garden it is.
And trust that your best work—your real work—comes not from doing more…
But from being whole.
With care,
Dr. Pamela
📚 Substack: @healingsecrets
📸 Instagram: @drpamelapurser
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