Your Energy Can’t Create Reality If You Don’t Have Any

I’ve been thinking a lot about burnout lately. The kind of burnout that lingers even after you’ve changed everything.

According to one of the books I’m reading, I’m doing everything all wrong. I’m supposed to operate in my Zone of Genius. But lately, I think I’m living in my Zone of Incompetence.

Everywhere I look, I see the same message repackaged: your energy creates your reality.

They say if you focus on what brings you joy, passion, and fulfillment, you’ll attract more of it.

That’s beautiful in theory, except lately I keep asking myself, “What do I even enjoy?” And all I hear is static. How do you create reality if you’ve got nothing left to give?

The (False?) Promise of Genius

I wanted to believe the hype. I tried to think that if I found the right mix of passion and productivity, life would “flow.” That there’s some magical alignment between purpose and paycheck.

But as I try to rebuild myself after burnout, loss of identity, and general existential chaos, I keep tripping over the same question: what happens if your nervous system is too fried to even want things?

I love being in school and learning to be a therapist, but part of me wonders if I actually want to be one. On the other hand, I love technology and product management, but I don’t want to work for anyone else again.

I know I’m smart, capable, and good at what I do. So why can’t I make any of it work for me?

Is it my lack of energy and time to commit? Is it fear?

Am I standing in my own way? Maybe.

The Reality of Burnout

I find it darkly funny that when I left my full-time job, I was burnt out… and now, I only feel more burnt out at home.

I don’t think this is a grass-is-greener problem. Logically, I know it doesn’t make sense for a stay-at-home mom to be burnt out. It sounds ungrateful.

Every day, I juggle stay-at-home-mom expectations when, truthfully, I’m not wired to be one. I am living in my own Zone of Incompetence and doing things that bring me zero joy and that I’m frankly downright terrible at:

• Cooking meals for the family

• Cleaning (ugh)

• Organizing

• Caretaking (like the whole, packing snacks, changing diapers, making sure everyone has their vegetables for the day, brushing teeth, all of that)

And then, as if to add insult to injury, some people say “parenting isn’t a job.” OKAY THEN, WHY AM I SO DAMN BURNT OUT?

I understand the sentiment. I agree parenting is supposed to be a relationship, not a laborious task. But let’s be real here… relationships require energy. And energy is finite.

Parenting may not be a job, but it sure has a job description. And caretaking is absolutely a job.

I’m learning that the unfortunate truth of burnout is that you can’t just switch your focus from one job to another. You’ll still be burnt out.

Energy doesn’t magically appear. You have to work for it.

So, What’s the Solution?

Maybe the problem isn’t that I’m doing it wrong. Maybe the problem is the framework was never written by someone who’s had to make dinner with one hand while holding a toddler in the other.

What if the point isn’t to escape incompetence? What if the point is to stop with all the expectations and realize that joy doesn’t only count when it’s photogenic or profitable?

I genuinely think genius lies in showing up and doing what you have to do, even if you do it badly. Genius also lies in admitting the truth: sometimes the work you’re doing can feel hard, thankless, beautiful, tedious, and relentless, but it is still sacred work.

And with that realization, I also realize that the metrics others are using may not work for me.

For now, I’m going to forget about asking if I’m living in my Zone of Genius. I’m going to forget about adhering to the standards everyone is saying about posting three notes a day to grow your audience. I’m going to exit the hustle culture because I’m done with it. It all feels like such a performance, and it’s “optimized” for people who aren’t like me.

The real success is staying human in a world that keeps demanding performance.

So instead, I’ll focus on something simpler: having enough energy to really live. To not forget myself or to lose myself in the hustle culture.

I’ll ask myself, “Did I make it through the day without losing myself entirely?”

And if so, that’s enough.