I just got back from a full week off. No blogging. No music making. No thinking. Just nothing. Eat, Sleep, Walk, Repeat.
And this is the part where I’m supposed to say, “That was amazing! I’m back, recharged, better than ever!”
But honestly? I feel far from that.
I slept. A lot. No alarms. No stress. Just rest. And yet, by the last weekend of my vacation, I crashed. Hard.
It’s 4:30 Monday morning as I write this, and I feel… off. Not just tired. Confused. Like my mind and body are out of sync. Like I stepped away from the machine, and now I don’t know how to turn it back on.
I thought a break would bring clarity. Instead, it brought a question I didn’t expect:
What if the way I’ve been working isn’t just exhausting—it’s broken?
For years, since my 20ies, I’ve lived in motion. Always creating. Always thinking. Always chasing the next thing. It felt like momentum. But maybe I need to see it for what it was: a treadmill disguised as progress. And when I finally step off? My system shuts down.
This wasn’t just fatigue—I think it was withdrawal. Crazy.
Because here’s the truth no one talks about: when you run on constant productivity, stopping isn’t rest—it’s shock. Your body has no idea what to do. Your mind searches for the next dopamine hit. And when it doesn’t come, you crash.
Now it’s Wednesday morning. And already, I feel better. I’m back on the treadmill, back in the current, and it’s pulling me in again. The machine is running, and I’m running with it. And somehow, that feels good. Familiar. Safe.
But that doesn’t change the truth: Something is still off.
And if I’m honest? I was even afraid to start writing again - so it took me 3 days to finalize this bloody honest blog post.
Because blogging means facing the relentless truth. It means putting my thoughts on paper, confronting what I really feel, instead of just moving forward on autopilot. And maybe that’s what I was avoiding all along.
I don’t need another break—I need a new way of working. A way to create that fuels me instead of drains me. A way to build momentum that doesn’t rely on running myself into the ground.
So maybe this is the real question:
What if success isn’t about pushing harder—but about designing a way of working that doesn’t break you?
Because I know this much: I can’t go back to the old way. And if any of this hits home for you, maybe you shouldn’t either.
So Here’s My Challenge to You:
When’s the last time you stopped long enough to see the truth? Not just a break. A real stop. A moment to ask yourself: Is the way I’m working actually working?
If you don’t know the answer, maybe it’s time to find out.