I Miss the Old Me: Unpacking Grief in Burnout

Welcome to the 3rd installation of your new go-to guide for burnout & burnout recovery.

“Sometimes you have to let go of who you thought you were supposed to be in order to become who you are.” -Elizabeth Gilbert

As Taylor Swift famously said…

I'm sorry, the "Old" Me Can't Come to the Phone Right Now...
Why?
Oh, 'cause she's grieving...

..Well, she kinda said that. I made some minor changes.

Welcome to the side of burnout we don't usually talk about. This is going to start as a more personal entry and then, I’ll conclude with 5 actionable takeaways at the end.

As someone that left their 9-to-5 almost 3 months ago, I can say that the hardest part of moving through burnout isn’t leaving the job… It’s grieving the past version of yourself who tied their self-worth to it.

After burning out, I thought all I needed was rest: Slower weekends, a more intentional sleep schedule, and much more therapy.

I wrongfully assumed that I’d bounce back into my old life with my usual momentum. I imagined burnout as a rough patch I could get through if I just hit pause, caught my breath, and immediately got myself back on track. But that’s not actually how it has unfolded.

What actually happened was much more complex and harder to explain and it’s something I’m still processing.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned about burnout recovery it’s that the recovery process is much more complex than you originally think. And part of that process is facing the brutally honest truth that the person you once were doesn’t exist anymore.

And for me, grieving the “old version” of me is where the real healing started.

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Let’s Rewind… Who was the “Old" Me?

Before the burnout, I was moving fast.

I thrived on being capable, reliable, and self-sufficient. I felt like I had things to prove, to myself and to everyone else around me. My self-worth was deeply tied to doing more, achieving more, and making it look as easy as possible in the process.

But when burnout actually hit, it was like that version of me completely shut down.

My thinking felt muted. My body felt sluggish. My motivation disappeared, and I couldn’t push myself with the same intensity I once did. Even the simplest tasks felt overwhelming and unachievable.

For the first time, my old ways of functioning just didn’t work, and in the emptiness that followed, I noticed something else…

I no longer knew who I was without the constant movement. Without the goals, the validation, and the direction.

I realized that my sense of identity has been built around doing more and achieving more, and when that disappeared, what was left?

A version of me that I didn’t recognize.

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The Unsettling Emotion that Shall Not Be Named

At first, I had a hard time articulating how I actually felt.

I felt restless and confused. It was hard for me to talk about how I felt in therapy, partly because I was navigating changes I hadn’t fully processed.

But as the days passed, I realized that what I was experiencing wasn’t just exhaustion or dissociation. It was grief.

I grieved the version of me who could push through anything. The one who never needed to explain herself. The one who kept going no matter how she felt.

I missed her clarity, her certainty, her drive.

And I didn’t just miss her. I mourned her.

Because somewhere deep inside, I had built my life around her. I thought she was the key to success, to stability, to belonging.

Letting go of that version of myself felt like letting go of the future I once dreamed about. That promise of potential slowly fading away.

Before burnout, that idealized future had a clear plan, a clear path, and a clear purpose.

I had been chasing that version of me for years. And when that image began to fade, I felt like a failure.

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The Pesky Game of “What If”

The grief was quickly joined by shame, and I found myself playing the blame game, where I was the only one to blame.

• How could I let this happen?

• Why didn’t I see the signs sooner?

• Who else did I let down besides myself?

And quickly that spiraled into a series of “what ifs".”

• What if I can’t recover from this?

• What if the best version of me is already gone?

• What if things will only get worse from here?

I would lay down and replay a version of me who had made all the right choices. Who had protected my energy, avoided burnout, and refused to sacrifice her well-being.

That imaginary version still haunts me, even though she was never real to begin with.

Keep Calm and Carry On

Eventually, I had to face the truth.

That old version of me did her best. She got me through so much.

She showed up. She hustled. She delivered. She gave 110% for a long time, but she was built for survival. Not for sustainability.

Letting her go has been one of the hardest parts of recovery, but it has also been the most freeing.

Because in grieving her, I’ve made space for someone new.

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Building Myself Again

This “new” version of me is slower, more intentional.

She doesn’t always have the answers. She needs rest. She takes longer to decide. She moves with care instead of urgency.

And she is still worthy.

She may not be as polished or productive, but she is honest. She listens to what she needs. She doesn’t force herself to keep going when her body says stop.

For the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m choosing my life instead of performing it.

I’ve learned that healing isn’t about going back to who you were…

It’s about embracing who you are now. It’s about creating space for growth, compassion, and new beginnings.

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Your Call-to-Action

If you’re reading this and you’re experiencing something similar, you might feel like something’s missing. Like you’ve lost momentum. Like you’re behind.

Or maybe you’re just in the space between who you were and who you’re becoming. And maybe that space deserves compassion instead of judgment.

Whatever you may be feeling. Repeat after me… You are allowed to miss the old you. You are allowed to grieve the old version who pushed their limits. And it’s okay to appreciate that version of you while still letting them go.

You don’t have to rush your way into becoming the next version of yourself.

You just have to be willing to stay with yourself through the transition. Through the discomfort. Through the grief.

Because I promise you this: What comes next will be built from a different place. A sustainable place. A version of you who doesn’t just survive, but thrives.

Stop the Spiral with 5 Actionable Takeaways

If you’ve made it this far, here are 5 actionable takeaways to help you stop playing the “what if” game and break free from spiraling thoughts:

1. Try the 5-4-3-2-1 Method to Ground You in the Present
   Focus on your breathing or your surroundings.

   Notice 5 things you can see, 4 you can touch, 3 you can hear, 2 you can smell, and 1 you can taste.
   This simple exercise pulls you back from overwhelming worries.

2. Challenge Negative Thoughts
   When your mind floods with “what ifs,” pause and ask yourself: Is this really true? Replace those thoughts with more balanced, realistic perspectives.
   You can even write these out on paper and evaluate them one-by-one: are these backed up with facts?

3. Connect with Your People
   Community goes a long way in the recovery process.
   Talk to a friend, a family member, or a professional.
   Sharing your feelings can help you feel less alone and interrupt the spiral.

4. Set a Time Limit
   Allow yourself 10-15 minutes to acknowledge your worries, then consciously shift your focus to something positive or distracting, like a hobby or a walk.
   Allowing time to process your feelings is so important. Avoiding them only does more damage long-term (…trust me).

5. Sort Your Worries: Control vs. Let Go
   Make a quick 2-column list of things within your control right now versus what is not in your control.
   Focusing your energy on what’s within your power brings clarity, while letting go of what’s outside of your control frees you from unnecessary stress.