When the Flame Fades: How Burnout Turns Joy Into Resentment

Burnout doesn’t announce itself with loud crashes. It creeps in slowly, like a fog rolling in on a clear day, until the sunlight of what once brought you joy is entirely swallowed up. One day, you’re immersed in the flow, the rhythm of what you love, and the next, the very thought of it feels like a weight you can barely carry.

We don’t talk enough about how the things that once filled us with excitement can begin to drain the life out of us. Maybe you were the kind of person who loved waking up early, the quiet of dawn your favorite companion, the stillness your peace. But now, the sound of the alarm feels like an intrusion, a harsh reminder of the responsibilities you once took pride in but now only bring dread.

It’s confusing, isn’t it? How can something that once sparked joy now feel like a burden you’re shackled to? How do you go from loving the process, the little details that once made you smile, to feeling like you’re dragging your feet through it all, only to satisfy expectations—yours, or worse, someone else’s?

Think about the writer who once danced with words, the blank page an adventure waiting to happen. Now, each word feels like pulling teeth, the joy of storytelling replaced by a gnawing frustration, the excitement turned to apathy. Or the teacher who used to light up at the sight of eager young minds, who now feels the flame of passion slowly dimming under the weight of endless grading, administration, and the crushing pressure to be everything for everyone. The once uplifting career becomes a marathon where every step is harder to take than the last.

And it doesn’t have to be something grand. It could be as simple as cooking. You once loved the sizzle of onions in a pan, the joy of creating something from nothing, pouring love into each meal. Now, it feels like a chore, the scent that once made you smile now just another reminder of how tired you are. The kitchen that was once your sanctuary feels more like a prison, the joy drained from every dish you make.

The truth is, when burnout takes hold, it’s not just the exhaustion or the stress—it’s the heartbreak. It’s the sadness of losing something that once meant so much to you. It’s grieving for the joy that used to come so easily, that now feels just out of reach. It’s the confusion of not understanding where things went wrong, of feeling betrayed by something you once loved so deeply.

But here’s where the fresh perspective comes in: Burnout isn’t just about loss. It’s also about change. It’s an opportunity, a sign that something needs to shift. It’s a signal that your needs, your desires, your life—have evolved. Maybe you’ve outgrown what once brought you joy, or maybe the way you engage with it needs to change. Sometimes, the things we love need to be reimagined to fit who we’ve become.

It’s okay to feel resentment, to feel that bitterness toward what once made you happy. It’s okay to admit that you’re not the same person you were when you first fell in love with that job, that hobby, that passion. What’s not okay is ignoring it, pushing through the pain until there’s nothing left but emptiness.

Rediscovering joy is not about going back to how things were; it’s about finding a new way forward. It’s about letting go of the guilt of change, embracing the possibility that joy can be found again—maybe in different places, or maybe in the same places, but approached with new eyes.

So, if you find yourself feeling like you hate what you once loved, take a step back. Give yourself permission to explore why. Be curious, not judgmental. Allow yourself to mourn what’s been lost, but don’t stop there. Seek out new ways to ignite that spark, even if it means starting small, or starting over.

In the end, burnout doesn’t have to be the end of the road. It can be a beginning—a chance to rediscover what truly brings you joy, and to reclaim it in a way that feels true to who you are now. After all, sometimes the things we say we hate are just the things we need to love differently.