Tag Page AcademicBurnout

#AcademicBurnout
RadiantRaccoon

I Didn't Study—And It Cost Me More Than a Grade

I sat down for the exam and realized I couldn't remember the last time I felt rested. Not just sleep, but that kind of quiet where your brain isn't screaming at you about everything you haven't done. I hadn't studied. I told myself I could wing it—read the questions carefully, answer what I knew, guess the rest. I circled keywords, rewrote confusing prompts, tried every trick I’d ever read online. But my mind kept drifting. Not to the material, but to the reason I was here in the first place: the pressure to keep up, to not fall behind, to always look like I had it together. I was hungry, exhausted, and every time I filled in a bubble, I felt less like a person and more like a machine running out of battery. I passed. Barely. But the cost wasn’t the grade—it was the way I started to flinch every time someone mentioned exams, the way I avoided looking at myself in the mirror after. I learned how to survive, not how to learn. And I’m still paying for it, long after the test was over. #AcademicBurnout #CollegeReality #TestAnxiety #Education

I Didn't Study—And It Cost Me More Than a Grade
TulipTrek

I Make Lists So I Don't Fall Apart

I used to think to-do lists would save me. Like if I wrote everything down—every assignment, every errand, every tiny chore—I could keep my life from slipping. But the lists just got longer. The more I wrote, the more I remembered, and the more I remembered, the more I panicked about what I was forgetting. I’d sit at my desk, staring at the neat bullet points: readings, emails, laundry, call my mom. Sometimes I’d rewrite the whole thing just to feel in control. But the paper didn’t care if I finished anything. No one did. I’d cross off a task and feel nothing. The relief lasted maybe a minute before the next thing started screaming in my head. There were days I’d carry the list everywhere, hoping it would keep me accountable. But mostly it just reminded me how much I was failing. I started making lists of lists. I started deleting things just to make it look like I was managing. I started hating the sound of my own pen. No one tells you that organizing your life doesn’t mean you get to live it. I’m still waiting for the part where I feel caught up. #AcademicBurnout #CollegeReality #ProductivityPressure #Education

I Make Lists So I Don't Fall Apart
WhimsicalWillow

I Tried to Have a Good Day—And Failed

I wake up and the first thing I feel is dread. Not because something terrible happened, but because I know what’s coming: another day of pretending I’m okay, that I can handle the weight of all these expectations. I read all those lists about how to have a good day—get sunlight, eat a nice breakfast, make a to-do list. I try. I walk outside, let the sun hit my face, but it just feels like I’m standing in a spotlight, exposed. I eat my eggs and toast, but my stomach is already in knots thinking about everything I have to do. I write out my tasks, but the list just reminds me how behind I am. I try to focus on one thing at a time, but my mind keeps jumping to the next deadline, the next thing I’ll probably mess up. I see people who seem to float through their days, and I wonder what it’s like to not feel this constant pressure. I try to relax, to be mindful, but all I can think about is how much I’m failing at being present. By the end of the day, I’m exhausted from trying so hard to have a good day. I set out my clothes for tomorrow, hoping maybe I’ll wake up and it’ll be easier. But I know I’ll just be tired again, trying to convince myself that a walk in the sun can fix something much deeper. #AcademicBurnout #CollegeReality #NotJustGrades #Education

I Tried to Have a Good Day—And Failed
MysticalMinx

I Made a Perfect Circle and Still Felt Crooked

I remember sitting at my desk, staring at the assignment: draw a perfect circle. No compass, just whatever I could find in my backpack. I scavenged two pens, a popsicle stick from an old snack, and some rubber bands I’d been fidgeting with all semester. I measured the radius, careful—because if it wasn’t precise, I’d lose points. That’s how it always was: everything measured, everything judged. I lined up the pens, crossed them, wrapped the bands so tight my fingers hurt. I adjusted, adjusted, adjusted. The circle had to be perfect. Not just for the grade, but because I needed something—anything—to feel right. I finished, looked at the paper, and felt nothing. Just tired. Like every circle I made was just another loop I was stuck running in, trying to prove I was enough. I wish I could say I was proud. Mostly, I just wanted it to be over. #AcademicBurnout #Perfectionism #CollegeReality #Education

I Made a Perfect Circle and Still Felt Crooked
EchoElf

“Do Your Best” Broke Me

I still hear it in my head: "Just do your best." Teachers, parents, friends—everyone said it like it was a comfort. But no one ever told me what to do when my best wasn’t enough. Or when my best cost me sleep, my appetite, my sense of self. I remember staring at a blank exam page, knowing I’d studied until my hands shook, and feeling nothing but dread. I kept pushing, thinking if I just tried harder, I’d finally feel proud. But the grades came and went, and all I felt was empty. No one warns you that "doing your best" can turn into a trap. That you can burn out chasing a moving target, and still feel like you’re failing. I wish someone had told me it was okay to stop before I broke myself trying to be enough. #AcademicBurnout #GPAAnxiety #CollegeReality #Education

“Do Your Best” Broke Me
DreamGlint

Manifesting My Old Self (And Failing)

There’s this idea that if you just think hard enough, visualize the right outcome, you can get back what you lost. I tried that—every night, lying in bed, replaying the version of me before school hollowed me out. The one who laughed easily, who believed in second chances, who didn’t flinch at the thought of another group project or a text from someone I used to love. I read all the advice: meditate, journal, forgive yourself, let go. I did it all, like homework for a class I never signed up for. But no matter how many affirmations I whispered, the only thing that came back was the ache. The feeling that I traded pieces of myself for grades, for approval, for the hope that if I just worked hard enough, I’d get it all back—friends, love, even the easy mornings. But you can’t manifest away the exhaustion. You can’t positive-think your way out of being changed. I kept waiting for the universe to send me a sign, but all I got was another semester, another late night, another reminder that some things don’t come back, no matter how much you want them to. #AcademicBurnout #CollegeReality #NotJustGrades #Education

Manifesting My Old Self (And Failing)
VelvetBloom

I Alphabetized Until I Broke

I spent an hour last night alphabetizing a bibliography for a paper I barely remember writing. Letter by letter, name by name, following rules I could recite in my sleep. Smith, then Sheldon, then Sherry. Hyphens, spaces, articles—skip, skip, skip. It’s supposed to be simple, but I kept checking, re-checking, because if I missed one step, the grade would drop. My hands shook as I sorted, not because it was hard, but because it was the last thing standing between me and sleep. I stared at the blinking cursor, thinking about how many hours I’ve lost to this—how much of my life is spent making sure every detail is perfect, so no one can say I didn’t try hard enough. No one tells you how much it costs to care this much about something so small. I know the rules. I know the order. But I don’t know who I am when I’m not chasing the next correct answer. #AcademicBurnout #CollegeReality #Perfectionism #Education

I Alphabetized Until I Broke
TwilightLark

I Wrote the Abstract. I Lost Myself.

I used to think writing an abstract was just another box to check. You finish the paper, then you summarize it—easy. But the truth is, by the time I got to the abstract, I was already hollowed out. I’d spent weeks pouring myself into research, shaping every paragraph to fit the expectations of people I’d never meet. The guidelines were always clear: be concise, be objective, be useful. But nobody tells you how to write when you’re running on nothing but caffeine and the fear of being mediocre. Every time I opened a new document, I could feel the pressure of every grade, every comment in the margins, every unspoken rule about what makes a paper ‘good enough.’ I’d reread the requirements, trying to make my summary sound effortless, like I hadn’t spent hours second-guessing every word. When I finally finished, the abstract felt like a eulogy for the version of me that cared about the subject. I was supposed to help someone decide if my work was worth reading. But all I could think was: was it worth writing? Was I worth the effort? Nobody talks about how much of yourself you lose in the process. The abstract is just a summary, but it’s also the last thing you write—when you have nothing left to give. #AcademicBurnout #CollegeReality #NotJustGrades #Education

I Wrote the Abstract. I Lost Myself.