the Soft collapse
This month, my body reminded me of something my mind kept ignoring - that even softness has limits.
Lately, life has felt... heavier. Busier, maybe. Overwhelming, definitely.
I can’t quite pinpoint when it started. It’s more like a slow build over the past few months. Somehow, I managed to hold it all together until suddenly, I didn’t. Everything seemed to catch up with me at once.
I keep telling myself I need to stop this cycle, but maybe I still don’t know my limits. Or maybe I do and I just choose to ignore them. Because deep down, I know I’ll reach this point again, so I might as well give it everything while I can.
In the past, I used to beat myself up for feeling like this. For being “weak,” unmotivated, and inconsistent. But as I’ve grown older (and maybe a little wiser), I’ve realised there’s no point in hating this part of me. I can’t change who I am, so I might as well embrace it. The part that feels like everything is possible, and the part that feels like life is too much. Both can exist.
I used to see rest as failure. Now I’m learning it’s just a different form of effort - the kind that doesn’t demand proof.
Now, when I find myself in this soft collapse, I try to meet it with grace.
I no longer push to outdo my past self. I try to maintain, not maximise.
If I need to rest, I rest. If I need to bed rot a little longer, so be it.
Here are a few gentle tweaks I make to my routine when I feel burnout approaching:
Schedule recharge time. Give yourself permission to simply exist without guilt. Recovery is an act of discipline too.
Dim the lights. Reduce sensory overload - create an atmosphere that lets your nervous system breathe.
Check in with your body. Look in the mirror - how’s your skin, your posture, your eyes? Add small acts of care where your body asks for them.
Plan ahead. Lay out your clothes, prep your bag. Eliminate small decisions that drain your energy.
Clean your space. Clearing clutter often clears the mind that created it.
Do less. Step back from extra tasks or side projects. Sometimes “nothing” is the most productive thing you can do.
Reach out. Talk to a friend or family member. You’ll be surprised how often they’re in the same place and how healing it is to laugh about it together.
Whatever you choose to do, ask yourself:
Will my future self thank me for this?
Only you can live with the decisions you make today.
Only you can decide whether to keep pushing or to finally give yourself permission to pause.
Maybe the soft collapse isn’t weakness after all.
Maybe it’s just the body’s way of asking for a slower kind of strength.
When I’m here, I listen more. I drink slower. I stop trying to fix everything. I let my world shrink to what’s in front of me and that’s enough.
Still,
Becoming Bo
