You’re Not Burnt Out. You’re Just Bored of Pretending.
- Tim Leach
- 10 hours ago
- 8 min read
It starts the same way for almost everyone.You wake up tired. You scroll before you’ve even opened both eyes. You think about the day ahead and feel that heavy, invisible hand pressing you back into the pillow.
“Maybe I just need a break.”“Maybe I’m burnt out.”“Maybe if I change jobs, change routines, change partners, I’ll feel alive again.”
We’ve all whispered those thoughts at some point, like little confessions to ourselves. But here’s the uncomfortable truth: most of us aren’t burnt out at all. We’re bored of pretending.
We’ve spent so long trying to keep up with a version of ourselves that never really existed that we’ve forgotten who we are without the performance.
And the more we fake it, the more exhausted we feel.
The Performance Trap
Society loves a performer.We’re told from the moment we can walk that life is a stage. Smile for the camera. Be polite. Work hard. Don’t let them see you struggle.
It’s all a script.And somewhere between school, social media, and self-help slogans, we start confusing authenticity with achievement.
We measure our worth by our output.We equate stillness with laziness.We apologise for needing rest.
So we perform.We become productivity machines with smiling faces and silent panic attacks.
And every time we post another highlight reel, laugh at another joke we don’t find funny, or say “I’m fine” when we’re anything but, something inside us starts to disintegrate.
Not dramatically. Slowly. Subtly. Like a candle running out of wax.
That’s not burnout. That’s erosion. The gradual wearing away of truth.
The Lie of Burnout
Burnout sounds noble, doesn’t it?It implies that you worked so hard, cared so much, and gave so completely that you simply ran out of fuel.
But what if your exhaustion isn’t from giving too much, but from giving to the wrong things?
What if your body isn’t saying “I’m overworked,” but “I’m over this act”?
When you’re living a life built on expectations, not intentions, it’s not rest you need. It’s honesty.
Most people aren’t tired from too much doing. They’re tired from too much pretending.
The Baking Lesson
Years ago, when I first started baking sourdough, I thought the process was about control.
Measure. Mix. Knead. Proof.Follow the recipe and it will rise.
Except it didn’t.The dough would sulk, flatten, crack, and refuse to behave.
So I’d fight it. Over-knead it. Overthink it. Force it into submission.
And then, one day, something clicked.Baking isn’t about control. It’s about relationship. You can’t bully dough into rising. You have to work with it.
It was the first time I realised how much of my life I’d been living like I was over-kneading dough - trying to fix, improve, and prove instead of allowing things to breathe.
We do this constantly. We over-knead ourselves. We try to become perfect versions of the person the world wants, forgetting that the rise only happens when we stop fighting and start listening.
The Myth of the Hustle
For decades, we’ve been sold the gospel of hustle.
Rise and grind.Sleep when you’re dead.Success doesn’t come to those who wait.
What a load of flour dust.
The hustle culture is a perfectly marketed trap for insecure overachievers. It dangles fulfilment just far enough away that you’ll keep chasing it, but never close enough to touch.
You tell yourself it’s temporary.You’ll rest when you reach the next milestone.You’ll slow down when the house is paid off, when the launch goes well, when the next thing clicks.
But “the next thing” never stops coming.
I know because I lived that loop. The Mindful Baker was born from the ashes of that lifestyle. I was chasing success so hard that I forgot what success actually felt like.
Then one day, standing in the kitchen, covered in flour and frustration, I realised the truth: peace isn’t a finish line. It’s a choice.
Pretending Hurts More Than Failing
The greatest human fear isn’t failure. It’s exposure.
We’ll sabotage our own joy just to keep the illusion alive.We’ll stay in jobs we hate, relationships that drain us, and patterns that crush our spirit because the alternative — being seen as flawed, uncertain, or human - feels unbearable.
But here’s the thing: pretending hurts more than failing.Failing stings, yes, but it passes. Pretending is a slow bleed that never stops.
You can’t heal a wound you keep covering with a smile.
Mindfulness, at its core, isn’t about sitting on a cushion breathing quietly. It’s about stopping the performance long enough to see the truth.
It’s the act of standing still in your own life and admitting, “I’m not okay pretending anymore.”
That’s when everything begins to shift.
When the Mask Slips
You know that feeling when you stop trying so hard, and suddenly things flow?That’s your real self, waiting patiently behind the curtain all along.
It’s why the best conversations happen when you stop filtering your words.It’s why the best bread rises when you stop interfering.And it’s why the best version of you appears the moment you stop managing everyone else’s perception of you.
Stillness is terrifying for most people because it’s where the mask slips.
But that’s also where you meet the person you’ve been searching for your whole life.
The High Cost of Pretending
Pretending doesn’t just make you tired. It disconnects you from reality.
When you spend your days performing, you start to lose track of what you actually want.
You forget what joy feels like without an audience.You start second-guessing your instincts because they don’t align with the script.You say yes when you mean no and then wonder why you feel resentful.
That’s not burnout. That’s emotional bankruptcy.
You can’t keep paying the price of authenticity with fake smiles and polite nods. Eventually, the debt collector comes knocking - in the form of anxiety, insomnia, irritation, or apathy.
And the only way out is to stop paying altogether.
Mindfulness Is Rebellion
Mindfulness gets marketed as calm music and deep breathing. But in truth, it’s rebellion.
It’s the act of saying, “I refuse to rush. I refuse to numb. I refuse to fake it.”
Mindfulness isn’t gentle. It’s raw honesty dressed as peace.
When you bake mindfully, you’re not just making bread. You’re practising rebellion. You’re saying no to the chaos long enough to listen to the quiet pulse of life itself.
The dough doesn’t lie. It shows you exactly how much attention you’ve given it.
And so does your life.
The Fear of Being Ordinary
One of the most exhausting lies we’ve ever swallowed is that we need to be extraordinary.
The world shouts at us to stand out, go viral, be special. But here’s the secret most successful people eventually discover: peace lives in the ordinary.
The smell of bread in the oven.The sound of your child laughing.The rhythm of your own breath when no one’s asking for anything.
That’s not mediocrity. That’s life at its purest frequency.
Extraordinary is just ordinary, deeply noticed.
The Unlearning
Every transformation starts with unlearning.
You don’t need more hustle, discipline, or strategy. You need less noise.You need to unlearn the idea that stillness is weakness.You need to unlearn the belief that your value is conditional.You need to unlearn the reflex to apologise for being real.
When I started teaching mindfulness through baking, I noticed something beautiful. At the start of every workshop, people arrive tense. They chatter, fidget, and overthink their dough.
Then about twenty minutes in, something happens. The noise fades. The air changes. You can feel the room exhale.
That’s not just relaxation. That’s remembrance.
People remember what presence feels like. They stop performing, and for a brief moment, they’re simply human again.
The Truth About Growth
Growth isn’t glamorous. It’s messy, awkward, and painfully slow.
We treat personal growth like a project - something to be completed by next year. But growth isn’t a spreadsheet. It’s more like sourdough.
That’s mindfulness in its truest form - the ability to stay when the ego wants to sprint.
Real transformation doesn’t shout. It whispers.
The Boredom Beneath Burnout
Let’s get brutally honest. Most people who claim to be burnt out aren’t actually overworked. They’re under-inspired.
They’ve been living on autopilot for so long that the body starts faking illness just to force them to stop.
Boredom is a spiritual alarm clock. It’s your soul tapping you on the shoulder saying, “This isn’t it.”
You think you’re exhausted, but what you really are is unfulfilled.
You can’t fill your soul with metrics and meetings. You can’t nourish yourself with other people’s approval.
You need friction, passion, risk. You need something real enough to make your heart skip again.
When you’re connected to purpose, energy returns naturally.
Why Baking Heals
There’s something almost sacred about baking. It slows time.
You can’t rush yeast. You can’t fake patience. You can’t outsource presence.
Baking forces you to confront the truth that most of life’s problems are created by your own impatience.
The dough doesn’t need fixing. It needs time.
So do you.
When your hands are covered in flour, your phone is out of reach, and your mind stops chasing the next thing, you remember what it feels like to be whole.
That’s the healing most people are searching for in podcasts, retreats, and endless self-help books. It’s not out there. It’s in the act of doing one thing fully.
The Courage to Be Real
To stop pretending takes courage. Real courage.
It’s easier to wear the mask than to risk rejection.It’s easier to play the role than to admit you’ve outgrown it.It’s easier to keep busy than to be honest about what’s not working.
But easy is expensive.
Every time you avoid truth to maintain harmony, you create internal chaos.Every time you say “I’m fine” instead of “I’m lost,” you bury a little piece of yourself.
The path to peace isn’t lined with more effort. It’s cleared by less pretending.
What Happens When You Stop Pretending
When you stop pretending, three things happen almost immediately.
1. You feel everything.The numbness lifts, and it’s both beautiful and brutal. Joy feels richer, sadness feels sharper, and that’s exactly how it’s meant to be.
2. You confuse people.Those who loved your mask won’t recognise the real you at first. Let them be confused. It’s not your job to make everyone comfortable.
3. You start to breathe.Deeply. Freely. Without the weight of constant self-management.
That’s when you realise the exhaustion was never from doing too much. It was from being someone else.
The Mindful Reset
If you’re reading this thinking, “That’s me,” good. Awareness is the beginning of freedom.
Here’s your reset.
Take a day. Turn off the noise.Don’t fill the space. Don’t try to fix anything.Just bake. Or walk. Or breathe.
Let boredom arrive. Let stillness feel awkward.
Then, in that silence, ask yourself one question:“What am I pretending not to know?”
The answer might sting, but it will also set you free.
The Final Rise
When dough finally rises, it doesn’t make a sound.No fireworks. No applause. Just quiet expansion.
That’s what real growth looks like.
You stop trying to prove, please, and perform. You start showing up - gently, truthfully, messily.
That’s when life starts to taste good again.
So no, you’re not burnt out.You’re just bored of pretending.
And the cure isn’t another holiday or productivity hack. It’s honesty.
Honesty with yourself, your time, your needs, your truth.
Because the moment you stop pretending, everything you were chasing starts to find you.
A Gentle Invitation
If you’ve forgotten what presence feels like, come bake with me. Not to learn the perfect crust, but to rediscover the peace that’s been buried under perfectionism.
In every Mindful Baker workshop, we do more than make bread. We remember what it means to be real.
Bake. Breathe. Be present.It’s not just a slogan. It’s the antidote to pretending.
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