3 minute read
The new year barely started and I already feel worn down by it. Not because of work or deadlines, but because of the constant weight of what’s happening around us. The state of the U.S. doesn’t feel stable, and every single day brings another headline that makes you stop and think, are we actually okay? When the world feels like it’s on edge, showing up online and acting like everything is normal feels harder than it ever has.
I’ve been a content creator for over a decade, long before “influencer” became a job title. I genuinely love what I do. It’s given me opportunities, stability, and a life I’m grateful for. But right now, creating content feels different. Heavier. More complicated. It’s not burnout in the traditional sense. It’s a mix of burnout, grief, anger, and this quiet discomfort that keeps asking whether the kind of content I’ve always made still fits the moment we’re living in.
A lot of my work has revolved around product reviews, lifestyle recommendations, and sharing things I enjoy. Normally, that kind of creative expression feels fun and honest. Lately, it’s felt strange. Even fake at times. When so many people are struggling just to pay rent or put food on the table, it’s hard not to question the value of talking about the next thing to buy. Not because those things are inherently bad, but because context matters, and right now the context feels off.
Content Creation Burnout
That internal conflict has made creating harder. Not impossible, but heavier. Writing is still the one place I can show up, even though that’s suffered too. Filming, reviewing, and everything else that once felt automatic has been on pause. Not out of laziness or lack of passion, but because forcing myself to perform through this moment didn’t feel honest.
There’s also the reality no one loves to talk about. This is still my job. I still need to make money. That pressure doesn’t disappear just because the world feels like it’s unraveling. Balancing the need to keep going with the need to stay grounded is a constant push and pull, and I know I’m not alone in that.
This isn’t a quitting announcement. I’m not disappearing. I’m still here. I’m just thinking more than I’m posting right now. Trying to figure out what creating looks like when everything feels louder, sharper, and more fragile than it used to. Maybe that means slowing down. Maybe it means being quieter. Maybe it means shifting how and why I create at all.
I don’t have answers. This isn’t a neat conclusion or a motivational wrap-up. It’s simply where my head is right now. If you’re feeling the same tension—wanting to create, but unsure how to do it responsibly or honestly—you’re not broken. You’re paying attention.
And maybe that’s where we start.
