When productivity becomes toxic, it’s time to redefine your narrative and abandon the quest for ultimate balance.

The Great Resignation may be dated, yet toxic productivity culture lingers. In May 2022, I read a transformative book by a notable author. Within two months, I left a decade-and-a-half-long career in public service and embraced a new life as a remote freelancer, shifting my pace entirely. This wasn’t mere coincidence.

This book is neither self-help nor purely journalistic; it's more of a philosophical inquiry. After writing a piece on burnout, I wanted to delve deeper into my own experience with exhaustion. Why is burnout a prominent topic in today's media?

The pandemic disrupted women’s routines significantly. Studies indicate labor market turmoil particularly affected women; one research report warned of a potential “female recession.” For those still in the workforce, remote work is now a permanent fixture, altering the juggling act we once managed.

But let’s talk about routines: we’re fixated on them. The author asserts that “routine is often seen as the remedy for various issues,” stating that even self-care has morphed into another task on our to-do lists. Most poignantly, “A routine can give us a sense of security in an unpredictable world.” By the time I reached page 30, it was clear we needed a discussion. The more I engaged with her insights, the more they illuminated my questions regarding burnout and the disruption of the work/life balance.

Self-care is a buzzword, frequently paired with “burnout.” Here’s the twist: women often find themselves overwhelmed because, as the author highlights, we’re adding self-care to our already heavy to-do lists. We believe that by constructing a flawless routine, we’ll find peace. If we could just schedule yoga, couple time, work emails, playdates, and rest, surely we’d achieve our ideal work-life balance.

I spent years pursuing an ideal that’s inherently unachievable: a meticulously crafted balance of physical, mental, and financial wellness, career success, organized spaces, and fulfilling relationships, all while nurturing what some call “unicorn space.” These elements rarely thrive simultaneously.

I spoke with the author prior to realizing I would soon join the ranks of the great resignation. I asked her why we perpetuate the myth that balance is attainable, despite knowing it isn't.

While she humbly stated she didn’t have all the answers, she reminded me that “There are entire industries profiting from the illusion of balance,” which is ultimately unachievable. “We’re perpetually on a hamster wheel,” she explained. Social media plays a role in this cycle—“The comparison and consumerism traps lead us to forget we’re viewing highlight reels. We start to think others are managing their tasks, achieving balance, and succeeding while we struggle.”

“Self-blame can keep us stuck: we quickly blame ourselves for not measuring up. The lives we see online, whether from brands or peers, are often unrealistic and demoralizing. It’s challenging to disentangle from that.”

All the planners, habit trackers, and hours spent organizing to achieve “balance” flooded my mind during our conversation. In the past, women were sold home goods with promises of happiness; today, we’re marketed products that claim organization will lead to balance if we just try hard enough. Exhaustion and impossible standards be damned.

The reality of my burnout is that balance is simply not attainable. A single missing grocery item can derail my meal planning (hello, drive-thru guilt for lunch). My well-curated wardrobe suddenly feels inadequate as my body changes. Even a meticulously planned Date Night can be upended by a headache.

Despite my best efforts, I often find myself ordering takeout multiple times a week, berating myself over a messy living room and lack of energy to tidy up. I could blame external factors, or choose to give myself grace, but I often do neither, striving instead to schedule a better day tomorrow.

A colleague of mine explored the topic of work-life balance at the pandemic's onset, revealing the systemic challenges faced by women, especially working mothers. Through this journey, I’ve realized that the notion of “balance” is merely a construct perpetuated by a flawed system that keeps us hustling. I can juggle many responsibilities, but not as flawlessly as my social media suggests.

Recognizing your own productivity narrative is the first step toward regaining control, as the author advised. “Curiosity leads to awareness. Then we can either forgive ourselves or reshape our story.” The narrative I had created, filled with perfectly healthy lunches and curated lives, simply isn’t feasible. Letting go of the illusion of balance was my initial move toward recovery.

During her writing process, the author discovered that a “copy-paste” method for achieving success is futile. “We all have different energy levels, circumstances, and emotions,” she reminded me. “Our needs vary day by day; there’s no one-size-fits-all solution.”

Burnout isn’t going away. We’ve been conditioned to think happiness can be purchased, but “balance” has become the trendy yet elusive goal of our time. In 1952, women were portrayed in ads as blissful with their home goods. Fast forward 70 years, and we’ve been misled into believing that a color-coded calendar will bring us peace. However, understanding the narratives we accept—and who benefits from these myths—can lead to more effective ways of tackling burnout and discovering genuine peace.

This book is available at your local library or any bookstore.