I didn't leave. That's the thing people misunderstand.
I'm still here. Still in the room, still answering when spoken to, still doing the things that need doing. But there's a version of me that quietly packed a bag at some point this week and went somewhere nobody has the address to. And honestly? That version is having a much better time.
This isn't burnout. Burnout is involuntary — it happens to you. This is a choice. A deliberate, fully conscious decision to stop being available at full capacity to a world that was taking more than it was giving.
I've started calling it maintenance.
You don't explain it to people because there's no explanation that lands right. "I need space" sounds dramatic. "I'm fine, just retreating internally for an indefinite period" sounds worse. So you say nothing. You just quietly reduce your surface area and let the noise find someone else to attach to.
The wardrobe on these days is very specific. Nothing that invites comment. Nothing that opens a conversation you don't have the bandwidth for. Something that says I am here and I am fine and please don't — all at once, without words.
I've worn the same hoodie three days in a row. Not because I haven't done laundry. Because it's the right answer to a question I keep being asked.
Some people retreat to recharge. I retreat to remember what I actually think, without everyone else's opinions in the way.
It works every time.
0 comments