The Thing That Kept Me Awake, and Almost Dead

In today’s world, we talk about burnout as if it’s the ultimate villain, the thing that drains us, the enemy of balance. But in this reflective essay, we look deeper. What if burnout is not the true culprit, but only the shadow? What if the real force at play, both the maker and breaker of our lives, is ambition itself?

This piece explores the double-edged nature of ambition: how it fuels creativity, growth, and survival, while also driving exhaustion, restlessness, and self-doubt. It’s a reminder that ambition isn’t something to escape, but something to carry wisely, a blade that can either wound us or sharpen us. – Editor’s note

The word that fills our timelines today is burnout. It shows up in captions, chats, and mental health posts: “I’m exhausted.” “I’m burned out.” “I can’t do this anymore.” And yes, burnout is real. It feels like moving through life without oxygen, every step heavier than the last.

But when I really sat with myself, I realised something deeper: burnout didn’t kill me. Ambition did.

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Because burnout is just the symptom, ambition is the blade.

From the time we were children, ambition was stitched into us. “Have big dreams.” “Aim higher.” “Don’t settle.” We listened. We learned to measure our worth in gold stars and report cards. We learned that productivity was loveable, and achievement was identity. With ten open tabs, colour-coded planners, and hearts racing at every deadline, we grew into adults who weren’t just chasing goals, we became them.

And once ambition fuses with identity, failure becomes personal. Missing a goal isn’t just about falling short, it feels like betraying yourself. Burnout at least demands you stop. Your body shuts down, your energy collapses. But ambition? Ambition never lets you stop. Even while you’re resting, it whispers in the back of your mind: “You’re not enough yet. Get up.” Sleep can cure burnout. Nothing silences ambition.

Yet ambition isn’t all dark. That’s what makes it complicated. It’s also the reason some of us get up in the morning with fire in our chest. It has carried creators through doubt, leaders through setbacks, and survivors through impossible circumstances. Look around and you’ll see them, the people who thrive on hustle, juggling ten things at once, glowing while the rest of us feel like we’re drowning. Ambition has built companies, art, and revolutions. It is both destroyer and builder, curse and catalyst.

So the real question isn’t whether ambition is good or evil. It’s: how much of ourselves are we willing to trade for it?

Because our generation lives inside this tug-of-war, on one side, we crave balance, slow mornings, and peace. On the other hand, we glorify the grind. We post about soft living while secretly admiring the friend who has a 4.0 GPA, a side business, a perfect gym routine, and still crafts flawless Instagram stories. We tell each other to rest, but applaud exhaustion as proof of effort. We talk about wellness, yet quietly respect the ones who do it all.

And so we live split. Confused. Messy. Human.

Ambition is the double-edged sword we all carry. It makes us bleed even as it gives us strength. It whispers, “keep going,” even when we’ve reached our limit. The finish line keeps moving, the hunger never ends. But maybe that’s the paradox,  life without ambition risks becoming flat, colourless. Without it, maybe we stop growing. Without it, maybe we stop feeling at all.

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So yes, burnout didn’t kill me. Ambition did. But maybe that death was necessary. Maybe it was the death of a smaller version of myself, the version that wanted comfort more than challenge. Maybe ambition forced me to die to who I was, so I could become who I wanted to be.

Ambition is cruel. But it is also necessary. The challenge isn’t to escape it, it’s to learn to carry it without letting it consume everything. To let ambition sharpen us without letting it cut us open.

Because at the end of the day, ambition is why we ache.

But it is also why we rise.