I'm burnt out

 

I'm Burnt Out

Young people are talking about burnout more than ever, but not every difficult day is burnout.

"I'm burnt out."

I seem to hear those words more and more these days. Young professionals say it, people in their twenties say it and sometimes even teenagers say it: "I'm done", "I can't do this anymore", "I'm running on empty." Perhaps the expression has simply become part of everyday conversation, but the numbers suggest there is something behind it. In a November 2025 survey of more than 1,400 full-time US employees by Eagle Hill Consulting, conducted by Ipsos, 66 per cent of Gen Z workers said they were experiencing burnout, compared with 37 per cent of Baby Boomers.

I don't remember using the expression when I was young, though we certainly got tired. I started working early, and decades later I am still at it. I have been fortunate to have had two long and rewarding stints in education, both of which have given me much to be grateful for, and my present role in senior leadership has been particularly rewarding. I work for a brilliant Organisation, with good people around me and work that still interests me, so I have little reason to complain. But in my early years I was irritated, tired, angry and upset more often than I care to admit, and yet quitting never crossed my mind. I assumed that some days would be difficult, that some people would annoy me and that there would be times when I would simply be fed up. I took those feelings as part of the job and part of growing up. What I wonder about now is whether we sometimes give ordinary tiredness and frustration a much bigger meaning than they need to have.

The world has changed

That does not mean I think burnout is a fashionable word invented by a generation that can't cope. It is real, and anyone who is genuinely overwhelmed deserves to be taken seriously. But the world young people are growing up in is very different from the one I knew. We had no phone in our hand telling us every few minutes what everyone else was doing, where they were travelling, what they had bought or how successful they appeared to be. We also had an extended family around us — parents, grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins — who noticed when something was wrong. They might not always have had the right answer, but there was usually someone to talk to, or someone who would simply turn up.

Many young professionals in the Gulf have left that support behind. They arrive full of ambition, often far from family, and enter a market that is fast, international and competitive. I understand the attraction because I have lived and worked in that kind of environment myself, but I also see how easily the pressure can build when everyone around you appears to be moving forward. Slowing down can feel like falling behind. A phone call home helps, but it is not quite the same as a grandmother at the table or a cousin who simply turns up. Even when the laptop is closed, the phone remains there, and at the gym and on my walks I often see people who have come to relax or look after their health answering messages or scrolling. The body is on the treadmill while the mind is still at the desk.

I also think work has become too closely tied to identity for many young people. When a job title becomes part of who you are, a bad review can feel like a judgement on the whole person rather than a comment on a piece of work. That is a lot to carry at twenty-four. I don't think the working world is going to become less demanding, so perhaps we need to help young people learn how to handle some pressure without allowing it to take over everything else.

Learning when to speak up

One of the things I have learnt over the years is that problems are often easier to solve when people speak about them early. Many people burn out quietly, and the same survey found that only 42 per cent of burnt-out workers had told their manager. I remember two young teachers in Pune who had similar workloads. One came to me and said, "Please don't mind me telling you, but I feel exhausted with the corrections." I didn't take offence and neither did she have to make a great case for herself. We simply looked at her timetable and I replaced one of her English periods with history, where there was less to correct. The pressure eased. The other teacher said nothing and eventually left. I have often wondered what might have happened if she had felt able to say the same thing. The change cost almost nothing.

There are other things I have learnt from watching young people grow. Resilience matters, but I don't mean pretending that everything is fine or expecting people never to struggle. I mean having a bad day, feeling miserable for a while and then getting up the next morning and carrying on. In all my years in education, I have seen people become stronger after difficult periods because they were given enough space to struggle and discovered that they could get through them. Learning to take criticism without turning it into a judgement on your worth matters too. If someone says, "This needs more work", it is healthier to think, "Then I will improve it", than to hear, "I am not good enough."

I have also been lucky to have had plenty in my life besides work. From the age of eighteen I was into music, played in a band and wrote for newspapers in Allahabad. I had good friends and plenty to keep me amused, so although work mattered to me, it was never my entire world. That helped. Family and a few close friends still matter enormously, and young people who have moved abroad often have to build that circle for themselves. It also helps to laugh, particularly at yourself, because not every mistake deserves to be carried around for the rest of the week.

We set the example

There is another part of this that belongs to us, rather than to young people. They watch what we do far more than they listen to what we say. We tell them to switch off while answering emails at midnight, and warn them about comparing themselves with others while we compare schools, houses and salaries. I have been in leadership long enough to know that people notice these things. If a manager takes a proper break, goes home on time occasionally and does not make everyone feel guilty for doing the same, people understand that work is important but it is not everything.

The pressures are real, the word burnout is real, but young people also need to learn how to handle ordinary tiredness, setbacks and pressure — while employers need to create environments where asking for help is acceptable.

There is a difference between having a difficult week and being burnt out. We all have days when we are exhausted, fed up with the job or frustrated by something that has gone wrong. Usually, we sleep, take a break, talk to someone, put the problem in perspective and carry on. Burnout is different. When the exhaustion persists, the interest and energy disappear and simply getting through another day starts to feel overwhelming, it needs to be taken seriously.

So when someone says, "I'm burnt out", we should listen rather than dismissing it or immediately telling them to toughen up. But we should also help young people recognize that not every bad day, difficult assignment or piece of criticism is burnout. Learning to deal with some pressure, recover from setbacks and come back the next morning is part of growing up and part of working life.

After all these years, I am still working, and I still have difficult days. I have learnt that a difficult day is just that — a difficult day. It does not have to define the job, or define me.

Tiredness is part of working life. Having nobody to tell is not.

 

 

​​​​​