This past weekend was intense. Not because of extra hours or extreme activities. It was Easter, and like most introverts, I find holidays genuinely hard.
I am a textbook introvert. Social gatherings, family dinners, the whole rhythm of a holiday weekend, all of it drains me. I don't dislike the people or the moments. I'm genuinely grateful for everyone I have in my life, and I believe deeply that human connection is what makes things worth living. I just consume a great deal of energy in the process, where most people seem to leave feeling refreshed.
This weekend was a perfect storm. It followed two weeks of heavy work and a few weekends already packed with visits, birthdays, and social events. Easter tipped me over the edge. I came back on Tuesday feeling completely emptied out, dizzy, heavy-lidded, with a brain that felt like it was running through fog.
The old version of me would have spiralled here. The mental narrative would have been familiar and unkind: I'm not good enough, I can't keep up, I'm too weak for this. Not because any of that was true. Just because I didn't know myself well enough to understand what was actually happening.
The first shift is recognising the root cause. I feel this way because my brain is wired this way. It's not a flaw or a failure, it's just how I'm built. I knew coming back would be hard. I probably could have been more careful with my energy over the break, but some things are unavoidable, and rightly so. I won't regret the time with family and friends.
Knowing what was coming meant I could prepare for it. I didn't fill the week with demanding work. I pushed a bit harder before the break to leave myself in a better position, and kept this week lighter, more admin, reviews, QA, things that keep the wheels turning without requiring the clearest head. It wasn't a perfect week, but I've been moving tickets forward and ticking things off. That counts.
The other thing I had to learn was self-compassion, which didn't come naturally. I've always held myself to a high standard, wanted to perform at my best consistently. What I learned the hard way is that chasing peak performance at all times leads more reliably to burnout than to achievement. So I gave myself some credit. I knew I wouldn't be at my best this week, and I let that be acceptable.
What I can always rely on is my daily routine. Mindfulness, exercise, reading, writing. These aren't luxuries, they're the structure that helps me decompress and find my footing again. It won't happen instantly, but the rhythm of ordinary days is what keeps me oriented, especially in the moments when I feel most lost.
Here I am. Still going. Knowing myself better than before, and noticing that the work I've put into that knowledge is quietly paying off. Even when I drift, I find my way back more easily than I used to. I don't take that for granted.