Early this spring, I realized that every time I opened my book’s document, my depression spiked. I’d find myself blinking back tears as I tried to put words on the page; when I sat down to revise, my mind rebelled and next thing I knew I was deep in the throes of a depressive spiral.

I’ve lived with depression pretty much my whole life, but this — this was different. Because normally, writing is my respite from the mental illness that keeps me down. I’ve written and revised nine novels, hundreds of essays and poems, and dozens of newsletters because doing so soothes me and gives my brain a bit of a break from the doom.

Burnout was the thing that made sense. Over the past three years, I have completed an MFA, written four novels, queried and been on sub with one, revised another until I’m sick of the thought of it, and drafted probably 100,000 words in miscellaneous other novel-like projects. I also work full-time, have a social life, read nearly 100 books a year, and co-host a writing craft podcast.

In short, the facts all pointed to the truth that I was a candle whose wick had run out. I needed to recover, and I needed to do it, stat. Over the past few months, I’ve healed a lot, but I’m still in the middle of the healing process; here’s everything I’ve put into place.

I took an extended writing break

For all of April and most of May, I took an extended break from novel-writing. I didn’t open or think about the book I was in the middle of drafting; instead, I spent the time I regained catching up on other admin tasks that had fallen by the wayside, or doing something even more revolutionary: nothing.

I’m not good at doing nothing. I get antsy and itchy and my brain starts to rebel.

But I tried to force myself to do it.

The break did me good, and within a month and a half I was able to get back to a semi-regular writing practice. However, the edges of burnout were still present, so I took other steps as well.

I pause writing when my brain asks me to

Sometimes I can be in the middle of a writing session when I feel my brain grind to a halt. In those moments, I’m practicing the art of listening to my brain and body — and I stop. It’s hard, I’m not going to lie about it. But I’m doing my best.

In fact, in the middle of writing this very article I felt myself getting stretched thin and losing the will to keep going with it. As much as I wanted to “push through” and just whip up the draft, I forced myself to set it aside so I could rest.

I’m doing the same thing with my revision, a project I thought I would finish by mid-July at the latest…and now it’s a week into August and I’ve got two weeks of work to go! I hate that I have to do this, but I’d rather take breaks — and take care of myself — now than reach an even worse stage of burnout.

I listen to my friend’s advice about the capability cap

One of my brilliant friends shared with me the concept of a capability cap, wherein every day we have a certain amount of bandwidth for getting things done. On my best days, my cap is at 100%, but hitting that percentage every day means that I’m using up all my energy on tasks and productivity, and none toward healing.

In my burnout stage, I can probably do about 60% of the ideal. In order to recover, I should aim to do no more than 30-35% on average, so the additional energy can go toward restoring my brain, refilling my well, and allowing me to heal.

Listen — this is hard for me. I’m a millennial who grew up being told I was special and gifted and if I just tried really hard, I’d accomplish great things. The idea of slowing down? Anathema. And yet. Here I am.

I read soul-filling books

I’m currently in the middle of V.E. Schwab’s latest release, Bury Our Bones in the Midnight Soil, and I’m reading it slowly, savoring it the way I might enjoy a rich chocolate dessert. The prose; the characters; the storylines; it all combines to make a book that is feeding into me.

I’ve also read probably 35 romance novels this year, books ranging from dark paranormal romance to fluffy contemporary jaunts. These books feed my brain in a different way, allowing me to experience joy and imagine romantic love.

These books are refilling my creative well, but they’re also inspiring me creatively and injecting a needed dash of joy into my life. These three things are so necessary and such an important part of my recovery journey!

I engage in joyful, IRL pursuits

I’m a chronically online girlie who loves a doomscroll, but even I can admit that’s…not great for my mental health. So often scrolling social media, or even watching TV shows, reading books, engaging in online discourse, can worsen my symptoms.

So I’m making a real effort to engage in the real world. To meet up with friends. To visit and sit at a table and chat over drinks and snacks. To see a movie in the theater instead of watching it alone. To be a part of the world as it spins around me. It’s hard, and things are genuinely really bad politically in the US right now, but if I stay in my room on the internet all day, I’m just going to stay burnt out and demoralized. Re-entering the swing of daily life reminds me that there is good to fight for. That there is purpose to writing. That there is joy in living. It reminds me that there’s a reason to heal. And it encourages me to keep working at it.