The Burned Out Young Adults Club
Raging against work culture and the dualities of adulthood
I think everyone, at some point, has met up with friends and heard one of them say “I’m SO tired”, eliciting the “ugh me too” response so perfectly synced in cadence and pitch it’s practically worthy of a choir.
Sometimes a person will say this to fill the lull in a conversation or in reference to a one-time, especially exhausting day/night they just so happened to have prior to your encounter. But, most times, it’s used as a way of breaking the ice. Among younger generations especially, this is used as a way of connecting with one another. We rarely have to have a specific reason for saying this, and if you’re a real one, you won’t even ask what’s making them so tired anyway. You’ll blindly give them an emphatic, and yet somehow listless, response that says “I hear you, I see you, and I’m right there with you” that let’s them know they’re not alone in their suffering. And if you do all this, you’ll be accepted.
While I feel there’s something wrong with this whole method of interacting, I’m more interested in why we feel the need to connect on this level in the first place. We didn’t just start doing this out of no where, and yet it has proven time and again to be successful way of relating to one another. As revealed in a study in which one group was subjected to a painful task while the other was given a relatively normal task, the groups that experienced pain together were found to be more connected and cooperative. Connecting via our shared pain and suffering seems to be a universal way of creating bonds and establishing mutual understanding, especially when we physically go through that pain together.
When I was in the seventh grade, I developed a bond with the classmates in my English class over our strong disliking of our teacher and the pain she inflicted upon us. We stood up for each other and whispered the answers to one another when she yelled at us, humiliating us in front of everyone when we were clearly confused, and consoled one another when she put us down. I’ll never forget that class or that time in my life not only because of how horrible of an experience it was, but because it was one of the last times I created such a strong bond with a large group of people. I know that if I were to see any one of them now, we would immediately find connection through that experience and be able to talk and laugh about it all even though we have long since gone our separate ways.
But when I was a junior in high school taking APUSH (a college level U.S. history class), I didn’t bond nearly as much with my classmates. This was an exceptionally painful class because of how difficult it was to keep up with all the work assigned, and we all talked about this fact daily. Every morning, I listened to my friends one up each other over who stayed up later, who had the most work, and who got the least amount of sleep. We speed-crammed for tests with each other in the halls and in the minutes before class, and even though we were “in it together”, it felt more like a competition than camaraderie among equally stressed friends.
I only took the one AP class and I didn’t remain friends with many of those people for very long. Not because I didn’t do well or had a falling out with any of them, I just didn’t like feeling as though I always had to prove that I was equally miserable, if not more so, than they were. It was an extremely exclusive club; one that meant sacrificing your physical and mental health to be a part of.
But, I’m finding the real world isn’t all that different. You’re expected to laugh about how little time you have for yourself and push yourself to do and be everything. All over social media, you’ll find pictures and videos of people lamenting over the difficulties of #adulting, cracking jokes about finally getting a break when they’re dead, and feeling as though they’ve burned out before they’ve even reached 30.
As an assistant visiting professor of psychology and psychotherapist that specializes in burnout recovery, Kim Hollingdale, explains in a BBC article on burnout
“…Gen Z has “the worst collection of stressors” among workers right now – from a lack of power at work to financial instability, the normalisation of hustle culture and an inability to unwind. And although all generations might be juggling high volumes of work, Gen Z has the least “workplace capital”, which means less power to set boundaries and say no to tasks.”
Hustle culture—though seemingly losing power—has a grip on us that has long since predated it’s modern terminology. Although the media paints it as a modern affliction that plagues the younger generations with a hunger for more via multiple jobs and an emphasis on productivity, human beings as a whole have long since subscribed to the hustle culture way of life. When we look back throughout history, we see series of accomplishments: the invention of the car, landing on the moon, creation of the internet, the first phone. But we could also say that these accomplishments are evidence of our insatiable hunger for more and consistent dissatisfaction with what we already have.
However, our dissatisfaction is what tells us there’s something missing from our lives. It reminds us to keep going and strive for better, but sometimes it comes at the expense of our well-being. We get so wrapped up in the life we want to have, we not only forget to take care of ourselves, but also to appreciate the life we currently have. The mindset pushed by hustle culture content normalizes this. It makes crying in your car every day before work seem normal as long as you’re “making that bank”. We begin to accept dysfunctional sleep schedules and having multiple jobs because if so-and-so is doing it then it must be okay.
We’re all exhausted and suffering, but at least we have each other, right?
This constant need for confirmation makes it harder for a person to follow their own path. Partly because images of tangible progress and success are constantly being fed to our subconscious, making us crave the validation of accomplishing a more traditional milestone. But also because of the shame we feel when we don’t.
***
I’ve always been somewhat of a late bloomer—slower to reach certain checkpoints than others, but also more willing to forge my own way there. My first year at community college, I took the entire year to explore different interests and have fun in my classes. I was a part-time student and a part-time cashier at the local craft store chain before transferring to university. But as I get older, it’s getting harder to take my time without feeling as though I’m falling behind. I see people I went to high school with posting about getting their first real job in their chosen profession, and the excitement I feel over my own progress mutates into two gangly, green goblins with rotting teeth and yellowing nails—each one tugging at my arms and whispering new insecurities and insults in my ears.
When you follow a less traditional path, it can be hard to keep going, especially when you let your jealousy and shame drag you down. As a writer, the ups and downs of creating sometimes knocks the wind out of me, making it hard to continue to get back up. The elation I feel over finishing an article quickly fades when I get a less than enthusiastic response or read the work of someone I feel does it so much better than me in every way possible. Their choice in words, the way each sentence perfectly flows together, even their goddamn research is so much better. It makes me want to crawl into a hole and never come back out, or at least not until I can make everything I’ve ever written shine with an etherial glow.
A bit of humility and competition can be good because it challenges us to be better and strive for more, but if not regulated, can cause us to isolate and push ourselves to our limits. Although hustle culture has begun to dissolve with people disapproving of the “work is life” mentality in the years post-lockdown, it can be argued that it has also intensified in some ways. With their commute now consisting of simply moving from the bed to the desk, it makes it easier to spend more time working.
Young adults especially tend to struggle with this. With less experience and a desire to move onto their “dream job”, it’s easy for them to feel as though they have no excuse for not doing more. In an Elite Daily article, clinical psychologist and performance coach Joshua Klapow says that
“‘Going from learning about the world to, frankly, getting a paycheck” constitutes a major developmental transition… “Even if it’s your dream job,” Klapow says, “what many [young people] find out is that dream job is still just a job.” Undergoing this professional adolescence amid the rise of the gig economy (where every job is an entry-level job) and “hustle culture” (where work is life) only adds to the looming dread.”
In a world where it feels as though every young adult and their cat has some sort of college degree, a high GPA, and well-rounded resume, it can feel as though no matter what I do, I’ll blend right back into the crowd of overachiever college graduates burning at both ends just to be seen. But then I think, if I burn brighter, I’ll be worthy. Or at least know I tried my best.
The problem with this is that, when you always ask yourself if you “did your best”, you eventually begin to wonder what your best even is. You question whether or not you actually did your best, undermining every effort you make because there might still have been more you could’ve done. It’s a nauseating cycle fueled by self-doubt, and no amount of rationalization in my 24 years of life has yet to convince me it’s just not possible to attain this level of perfection. Because for a young writer just starting out on my career, I feel I must be if I ever plan to get anywhere.
But this perfectionist mentality no longer simply applies to our work lives. We don’t just want to do well at work, we want to have hobbies, maintain friendships, spend time with family, travel, have experiences. We want to do it all, and we want to do it right.
“Appreciate your youth while you can” as so many of us often hear. This pressure to “do our 20’s right” makes it feel like taking a test to determine the rest of our lives. Work too hard and you become the “over-worked asshole” that only cares about their job, but work too little and you end up the “loser” who wasted their potential. But if I keep one foot on my career while twisting my body to step into a few hobbies and reach backwards a little bit to maintain just enough consistency with my family and friends, I might be able to keep these self-imagined prophecies from ever coming true. As long as I can keep it up. Fall down and I risk being branded a disappointment, or at least that’s how it feels.
However, this behavior is often applauded and sometimes even considered a right of passage because paying your dues is all a part of moving up in the world. Refusing to participate in things in favor of taking care of yourself makes you look lazy. Whereas always pushing yourself to be better and do more, all with a smile on your face, doesn’t just mean you’re worthy of success, it means you’re trying, and that’s all anyone could ever ask. You’re paying the price for happiness, you’ll get there.
This mindset of “paying your dues” seems to plague our world. We see it in the workplace and regular life. The decision to reject the student debt relief plan earlier in the summer is an example of this. The argument against it on the grounds that it wouldn’t solve the larger issue of rising tuition prices, however, is valid. It was a band-aid solution for a systemic problem. I can even understand not wanting to pay for the choices others made, especially when they’re the ones with the college degree, but this is also somewhat in line with a “why should I help you?” sentiment. It’s riddled with an individualistic perspective that thrives off the “I struggled, so now you have to” mindset.
***
I’ve rewritten this post many times now. I even thought about trashing it and just writing something else. Mostly because I’m afraid it’ll come across as whiny, but also because I can already hear people saying “that’s just life”. You can’t expect to have the good without the bad. I know… trust me, I know. I’ve rationalized it in my mind over and over, reminding myself that going through the bad is what makes the good so much better. We can appreciate it all so much more, especially when we remember how hard we worked to get there. I should be grateful to be where I am, to have the opportunities that I have. And I am. But sometimes it’s hard to be grateful all the time. Sometimes I need to wallow in the mud, covering myself in my anger and self-pity before I can get back up.
Quick little update: I’m going on a trip for 2 weeks! I’m also currently in the middle of writing another post that kind of goes along with this one, but I’m unsure if I’ll be able to finish in time since I leave on Monday and still need to pack. I’m hoping I might be able to do it, but if not, then it’ll have to wait until I get back. Hope you all enjoyed this post and thank you for your patience!
I also want to give credit to
and who’s writings on burnout, confidence, perfectionism, and living a full life in our 20’s have been stirring around in my mind for a while now and came together into this. If you want to read any of the work that inspired this, I’ll be linking each one here. I highly recommend each of their pages.Rae Katz - “Soft Confidence” and “Climbing Out of Burnout”
Madison Huizinga - “On Sleeplessness”
Mary Wallace - “the feminine urge to have lived a full life by 25”
Hi! Thank you for writing this piece. I’m currently going through the whole, “lost in your 20s and is pressured to be successful right away” part of my life too. Just recovered from my university burnout but the pressure to find a decent job and the shame that I’m not taking the traditional path is absolutely haunting me!
You truly said everything that’s been going on in my head for the past 3 months since graduation 😭 This article makes me feel less alone. Thank you so much again for writing this and I’m glad you didn’t trash this :”>
This was poignant. Seconding Mary’s comment: so glad you didn’t trash this! Two reading recs. One on the VERY old roots of the grind, especially as it applies to women: “Caliban and the Witch,” by Silvia Federici. Two: Rick Rubin’s new book, “The Creative Act.” It’s brilliant and it’ll keep you going on those days when you ask yourself: what’s the point!? Finally ... I’ll say: keep going! Keep writing. You have a calling and that calling will carry you through all the nonsense and noise.