We Are a Legion
I saw a post on Threads by Luvvie Ajayi Jones recently that provoked deep thought. Her words lingered with me long after I read them:
“Shoutout to those of us who are burned out. We are a legion.”
That’s right, a legion. Not a few scattered individuals struggling in isolation, but a legion, a massive community of people trying to recover from profound exhaustion.
She then followed that up with a post that got me thinking even more:
“Remember that burnout is not something you can recover from by going on one vacation. It can take a year or more to really recalibrate. I’m in year 2 right now, and I’m still in this recovery.”
I sat with those words for a long time—because I’m not in year 2.
I’m in year 3.
Until I read those posts, I hadn’t fully let myself acknowledge something critical: I’m still recovering. My nervous system is still healing. I’m not operating at full strength yet—and I need to honor that reality instead of pushing through it.
If You’ve Been Reading Along
If you’ve been reading my blogs, you already know what I’ve been through. I’ve written about the extreme burnout that began building in late 2022—fueled by over 26 years of 12-hour night shifts, perimenopause, and then menopause wreaking havoc on my nervous system, and supporting my Mom as she juggled caring for my Dad with Alzheimer’s and vascular dementia, managing my autistic brother’s daily needs, and handling my grandmother’s declining health.
I took two medical leaves in 2023—June to help care for my Dad, and October, when I finally realized I was extremely overwhelmed. I resigned from my job in early 2024 because my mental health required it.
I’ve shared about the intrusive suicidal thoughts in 2019 and again in 2024. Therapy, which I started in mid-2022, has been one of the greatest gifts of this season. I’ve written about my Dad’s decline and his death on July 27, 2024, and about how menopause stripped away my resilience and forced me to confront what I’d been avoiding for years.
I’ve been open about all of it.
What I Haven’t Been Honest About
But I haven’t been honest with you (or myself) about giving myself the grace I need to work through burnout.
There is no timeline for recovering from burnout. It will take however long it takes.
Deep down, my healing feels slow. It’s been almost three years since that first medical leave in May/June 2023. Shouldn’t I feel better? In some ways, I do. But shouldn’t I be ready to jump back into life at full capacity?
But those posts reminded me of something I forget often: healing from burnout isn’t something you can will yourself through or declare over. It’s not like checking a box. The body doesn’t work that way. The nervous system doesn’t work that way. It’s so much more nuanced than I thought.
I have to remind myself constantly of a few things: there is no timeline for recovering from burnout; I must make thoughtful and deliberate efforts toward my recovery; and it will take however long it takes.
But wait, here’s another piece of the puzzle, even though it’s messy and complicated:
My marriage has also contributed to my burnout. Marriage burnout is a thing.
I’ve been married for almost 13 years now. My husband is not a bad person—nothing like that. But marriage has never given me the partnership I wanted. (It was something that I knew, but just didn’t have the language for it before we married.) I’ve carried the emotional weight, the functional responsibilities, the mental load of our household. For over a decade, I’ve been the one who initiates, who manages, who makes sure things get done.
That’s exhausting. And it’s part of why my nervous system has been unable to rest fully, even at home.
That’s a deeper, fuller story for another time. But it matters here because recovery requires me to be honest about ALL the sources of depletion, not just the ones that feel safe or acceptable to name publicly.
Burnout didn’t just come from my job or helping with caregiving. It came from being a conscientious, high achiever—at work, in my family, and in my marriage—with nowhere to lay down my own burdens.
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” – Matthew 11:28-29 (NIV)
💭 Reflection Question:
Have you been honest with yourself about ALL the sources of your depletion? What are you avoiding naming—even to yourself?
The Pressure I’m Living With
Here’s where it gets complicated.
I need income. Not someday. Not when Zanele’s Faith Journeys becomes the six-figure business I’m praying for and working toward. I need income now.
There is some steady monthly income coming in, but it is not enough to cover all the bills. We’ve been very fortunate to have family help us financially with groceries and some other necessities.
I recognize that many people with burnout ( or any health concern) don’t have any safety net at all. Many women have to go right back to work, even while still broken, because there’s no other option. So I know the breathing room I’ve had is a gift. It’s provision I don’t take for granted.
But even with that provision, the pressure is real.
The bills are still there. The financial gap is still present. I’m still job hunting. It’s hard, and I’ve been ghosted more times than I can count after applying, or I’ve received a “thanks, but no thanks.” The ghosting and rejection can get depressing at times. Every day, I feel the weight of these questions: How much longer can this last? Will I have to take any job—like I did decades ago—even if it works against my healing? I want to be very strategic and purposeful about the jobs I apply to now.
And if I’m being completely honest? I think that if there were no pressure with income, I would be better able to really focus on healing. But there IS pressure. So I’m working towards getting better while also searching for work, which keeps my nervous system activated—which slows the healing—which extends the recovery time.
It’s a brutal cycle.
“Trust in the LORD with all your heart and do not depend on your own understanding. Seek His will in all you do, and He will show you which path to take.” – Proverbs 3:5-6 (NLT)
💭 Reflection Question:
What pressure are you carrying that makes true healing harder? If that pressure didn’t exist, what would healing look like for you?
What I Realized Today
Those social media posts about burnout recovery were a great blessing (a wake-up call) that reminded me of something I’d been pushing aside:
I’m not healed yet.
I’ve been acting like I should be over this by now, but my body is telling me a different story.
When I think about going to a traditional work environment, my nervous system reacts. When I imagine working in a high-pressure role again, I feel the anxiety in the pit of my stomach. When I consider taking a job just because I need the money—without regard for whether it will honor my need for continued healing—something in me resists. acting like I should be over this by now.
And today I realized that resistance isn’t weakness. It’s wisdom.
My body is still recovering from decades of depletion. My nervous system is still learning what safety feels like. And if I override those signals because I’m desperate or scared or ashamed, I’ll be working against myself again—the very pattern that broke me in the first place.
I don’t want to work against myself anymore.
Not in employment. Not in my relationships. Not in how I steward my body and my health.
“Those who live in the shelter of the Most High will find rest in the shadow of the Almighty. This I declare about the Lord: He alone is my refuge, my place of safety; He is my God, and I trust Him.” – Psalm 91:1-2 (NLT)
This is what dwelling in the Lord looks like for me right now: bringing my whole self—including my exhausted, still-recovering body—into His presence and trusting Him to lead me forward in a way that honors how He made me.
💭 Reflection Question:
Where have you been working against yourself? What is your body telling you that you’ve been ignoring because it feels inconvenient or scary?
What Does It Look Like to Trust God AND Honor My Body?
This is the question I’m sitting with now.
Because I know God is my Provider. I know He’s Jehovah Jireh—the God who sees my needs and meets them. And the Lord has been showing up that way for my entire life and in BIG ways during this season.
But I also know God gave me a body with limits. A nervous system that communicates through signals I’m meant to pay attention to. And ignoring those signals is self-betrayal.
So what does it look like to trust God for provision while also honoring my body’s need for continued healing?
I honestly don’t know. But I’m learning:
Trusting God doesn’t mean ignoring what my body is telling me. It means bringing my whole self—including my exhaustion, my limits, my fears—into His presence and asking Him to lead me forward in a way that honors Him and how He made me.
Honoring my need for healing doesn’t mean I’m not taking action. It means I’m being discerning about what kind of action I take. I’m job hunting, but I’m also setting boundaries. That means no night shifts, toxic work environments, or roles that require me to override my nervous system’s limits just to survive.
Giving myself grace doesn’t mean I’m lazy or entitled. It means I’m recognizing that recovery from profound burnout takes longer than I thought it would—and that’s okay. My timeline doesn’t have to match anyone else’s expectations, including my own.
Recovery is more nuanced than just declaring myself better. I can’t just decide “okay, I should be healed now” and expect my body to comply. Healing happens in layers, at its own pace, and it requires me to keep honoring where I actually am instead of where I think I should be.
“Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore, honor God with your bodies.” – 1 Corinthians 6:19-20 (NIV)
💭 Reflection Question:
How can you trust God AND honor your body’s limits at the same time? What would giving yourself grace actually look like in your situation?
I’m Still in the Messy Middle
I don’t have a neat resolution for you. I’m still job hunting. I’m still waiting to see how ZFJ will grow into the income source I believe it can be. I’m still navigating financial pressure and uncertainty. I’m still grieving my Dad. I’m still processing the reality of my marriage. I’m still in year 3 of burnout recovery.
But what I know now—what those posts reminded me of today—is that I need to give myself grace for still being in recovery. My body is still healing. And I have to honor that, even when it’s inconvenient or scary or feels like it’s taking too long.
I’m not going to let desperation or shame push me back into patterns that broke me. I’m not going to work against myself anymore.
And I’m inviting you to consider the same.
We Are a Legion—And That’s a Gift
If you’re in burnout recovery—whether it’s year 1, year 2, year 3, or beyond—you’re not alone. We are a legion. I didn’t realize how many of us are openly talking about this now. And honestly? That’s such a gift.
Because when I thought I was the only one still struggling with this after years, I felt ashamed. But knowing that recovery takes time—real, substantial time—and that others are on this journey too? That encourages me to honor my own pace.
Your body isn’t being dramatic. Your nervous system isn’t weak. You’re healing from real depletion, and that requires time, rest, and the courage to stop overriding your limits.
Recovery takes as long as it takes. And trusting God means trusting that He gave you a body worth protecting.
Honoring that body isn’t a lack of faith—it’s an act of worship.
“The LORD is my strength and shield; I trust him with all my heart. He helps me, and my heart is filled with joy. I burst out in songs of thanksgiving.” – Psalm 28:7 (NLT)
💭 Reflection Question:
Are you in burnout recovery? What year are you in? Have you permitted yourself to actually heal, or are you rushing yourself because you think you “should” be over it by now?
Walking Toward Renewal
I’m not healed yet. But I’m healing. I’ve said this a few times, and I must keep reminding myself of this.
And I’m learning that the pace of my recovery doesn’t have to match anyone else’s timeline—not society’s, not my family’s, not even my own impatient expectations. And if there are people in my life who think burnout isn’t real, I no longer carry their opinions.
The Lord is renewing my strength. But renewal takes time. And I’m choosing to honor that, even in the messiness, even in the financial pressure, even when I don’t know exactly how it will all work out.
“But those who wait for the Lord [who expect, look for, and hope in Him] will gain new strength and renew their power; they will lift up their wings [and rise up close to God] like eagles [rising toward the sun]; they will run and not become weary, they will walk and not grow tired.” – Isaiah 40:31 (AMP)
This verse isn’t saying “those who push through exhaustion will never get tired.” It’s saying those who wait on the Lord—those who rest in Him, who let Him be the source—will have their strength renewed.
Renewed. Not manufactured through willpower or hustle. Renewed by dwelling in His presence and trusting His timing.
I’m trusting that the same God who led me into this season of rest and recovery will also lead me into what’s next—in His timing, in a way that honors both my need for provision and my need for continued healing.
Life is a faith journey. Walk boldly—but sometimes, walking boldly means having the courage to rest when your body says, “I’m still healing.”
💜
Tami Zanele
If this post resonated with you, I’d love to hear about it. Are you in burnout recovery, too? What year are you in? How are you learning to give yourself grace and honor your body’s need to heal? Share in the comments or reach out—we thrive together.
