From Overworked to Enlightened: My Journey Through Burnout and Back

There was a time when I believed that never stopping was something to be proud of. I wore my relentless work ethic like a badge of honor. Back then, it wasn’t unusual for me to put in three consecutive 18-hour shifts, then spend eight hours traveling home, only to catch four hours of sleep before jumping into another 10-hour shift. I thought of myself as a “grafter,” someone who worked hard and, on the rare occasions I had off, partied just as hard. But that life eventually caught up to me.

I learned my lesson the hard way when, on November 17, 2014, I experienced a sudden health crisis: a blood clot on my brain. I temporarily lost my hearing and my sight. I remember Doctor Bateman showing me a brain scan and pointing to a white patch the size of a 50p coin. He said, “This alone would be enough to kill 99% of people.” Then he flipped to another scan of my brain—this time, it was almost entirely white. “This is yours,” he said. “It’s a miracle you’re alive, and an even bigger miracle you haven’t suffered a stroke or aneurysm.”

Those words shook me. In that moment, I realized life truly is for living, not just surviving through endless grind. Yet old habits die hard. By 2019, I was back at it again—working 60-hour weeks, though that was “nothing” compared to what I’d pushed through in the past. My son was born with heart complications, and I wanted to give him the best life possible. That sense of responsibility drove me to consider returning to bricklaying. After the lockdowns of COVID-19, I’d spent a lot of time shielding and reflecting on what I really wanted. The time felt right to make a change, so I took the leap.

At first, it was perfect. I got back in touch with old colleagues and found myself laying bricks under the sun from 8:00 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. I was happier, more balanced. But the pattern repeated itself: I started taking on more and more work. Before long, I formed a company with another bricklayer, and the workload became relentless again. After just three days off in a full year, my weight dropped from 13 stone to 10.5, and I began experiencing dizzy spells. That was my light bulb moment. I realized I couldn’t keep pushing myself like this without dire consequences.

I decided to step back and take time to reflect. With that newfound breathing room, I started a small side business—something I was passionate about, something with a supportive culture I loved. Yet even then, old commitments tugged at me. My previous employer contacted me, needing my help to support their new manager. I obliged, working 60-hour weeks once more. It turned out to be a temporary patch, a “band aid” solution. In the end, it stifled the growth of my side business and chipped away at the sense of freedom I had begun to nurture.

Around the same time, I bought a 1920s house. Renovating it was going to be a challenge, and I knew I had to approach it differently. Just then, a friend offered me a chance to break this cycle: a new job opportunity in a new industry, surrounded by a great team and the promise of learning something fresh. Yes, the pay was lower, but so were the hours—37.5 hours a week instead of 60 or more. It was a trade I was willing to make.

Now, I have the time and energy to enjoy life. I can pick my son up from school, watch him play football on the weekends, and put energy into my own business, all while getting the rest and recovery I need. I’ve learned that being a “grafter” isn’t a medal to pin on your chest; it’s often a trap we set for ourselves out of fear—fear that if we don’t push harder, we’ll never hit our goals.

But that’s a lie. Real success isn’t defined by working yourself to the brink of collapse. It’s about balance, about working smarter, not harder. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned from this journey, it’s that true fulfilment comes not from endless toil, but from living a life you can genuinely enjoy.