For years, I would berate myself for running out of steam. Whenever I didn’t push myself to the limit, I felt shame about being stagnant. Whenever I said no to a task at work, I’d worry I wasn’t earning my keep. If I failed to help a friend when they needed it or didn’t make it to a protest I’d planned to go to or a concert a friend was performing in, I’d feel certain everyone was judging me. I was terrified that anytime I took a break or drew a boundary, I was being lazy. After all, there was nothing worse I could be than that. As awful as being tired, overwhelmed, and burned out with no
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