Reinvention Isn’t a Miracle, It’s Fertile Chaos
- plantinemma
- Jul 11
- 7 min read
Updated: Jul 13
"After a burnout, I left a comfortable, well-paid job… to finally do what I love!"
You’ve seen these stories on LinkedIn: people who quit everything, hit rock bottom, and bounce back into a life of purpose. As if that’s the rule now. As if collapse must always come before clarity.
But what if I told you it’s not that simple?
I left a very well-paid permanent contract at a major chemical company—not on a whim, but because I no longer saw meaning in what I did. And that decision, as liberating as it was, led me into two years of struggle.
A struggle I largely contributed to—through my mind, my expectations, and my limiting beliefs.
If you’ve got a couple of minutes, let me share. 👇
The daily grind I left behind had become empty. Every morning, I woke up with this dull ache of weariness: a loss of meaning, repetitive tasks, mental overload, tools that drained me, interactions that sparked nothing. (Maybe that resonates with you?)
On paper, it all looked great. Amazing colleagues. Social status. A generous salary.
But I was slowly burning out. From the inside.
We often talk about burnout—exhaustion from overwork. I experienced the opposite: bore-out. An exhaustion caused by lack—lack of meaning, alignment, challenge. I wasn’t overwhelmed by tasks, I was starving for purpose. I felt useless, unmotivated, disconnected.
Before I completely burned out, I asked for a meeting with my manager. That day, I didn’t sugarcoat anything. I cried, and I handed in my resignation.
But she didn’t let me go so easily (and I’m still grateful for that kindness). A few months earlier, I’d launched a fun side project: a newsletter in comic strip format to explain our team’s work. She saw potential in it and offered to keep me on through a freelance arrangement.
Two years later, I’m still collaborating with them as a scientific communication lead—on projects that revolve around education and sustainability awareness in research. And I love it.
But after that resignation, my partner and I moved to the Netherlands.
That’s when things got complicated.
Three different homes in eight months. Over 100 job applications. Almost no traction.
Kafkaesque processes, silent rejections, hopes dashed:
7 months of waiting for a "no" from Deloitte
No constructive feedback from LVMH despite multiple applications
Tony Chocolonely loved my CV… then ghosted
HelloFresh: 3 rounds of interviews—for an internship—and a rejection at the final step
And 70+ other applications swallowed by the void
Maybe I was too picky. Maybe I was just lost.
Two real opportunities did show up:
A position at Stora Enso, 40 minutes from The Hague. But it was a logistical nightmare—1.5 hours commute or relocating to an isolated industrial area. Plus, there was an internal hire already lined up. I gave up mid-process.
A CSR position in Bordeaux. I made it to the final stage, beat out 80 candidates. They wanted me. I wanted them. Then the finance team said: "We don’t have the budget." End of story.
I broke down.
We then moved to Lanzarote. A much-needed pause. Six months—maybe more—to rebuild my confidence.
And only there did I begin to realize:
I had never given myself time. Not to breathe. Not to ground. Not to reconnect.
I thought I’d left a life that didn’t fit me—but I’d rushed headfirst into building another. Out of fear of the void. Fear of falling behind.
I sabotaged myself. I tried to bounce back too fast. I searched career sites like they were medical forums. I thought a new job title would cure me. I applied frantically, thinking our unstable life was all my fault. That I had to fix it. Alone.
The tug-of-war between:
the urgent reality: "I need a job—now" (translation: our finances are spiraling, no stable address without my income, life is expensive, I don’t match my lifestyle)
and the invisible reality: "I need time to figure out what I love."
Exhaustion. Overthinking. Scattered thinking. Excel sheets of applications. Half-hearted online courses. Lost confidence. Guilt. Fear of failing. Fear of failing again.
And at the same time—I had never slept so much in my life. My body was begging me to slow down. But I kept running.
So if you're in bore-out, burnout, or just lost in transition:
Take. Your. Time.
Not the time others allow you. The time you actually need.
Don’t chase the phoenix rising (he won’t come faster just because you set an alarm clock).
Lanzarote is where healing began.
Not because of a miracle workshop or a shiny new certification. But because of:
Stillness
Silence
A full inventory of my values
An honest exploration of my desires
A reconnection to nature, to the living world, to myself
But before healing could happen, I had to go through another storm.
Since I loved my illustration work with my current contract, I tried to develop my illustration business. I had to find other clients.
But any emerging artist will tell you: carving your niche is hard as f* :) .
Cold outreach. Fighting the algorithm. Finding your style. Spending hours on reels no one sees. Redoing the same drawing 36 times. Charging €5/hour and not daring to ask for more.
Needless to say, it worsened my impostor syndrome, my exhaustion, and my inner critic.
Still, I learned.
To persist. To take rejections. To question my obsession with productivity.
Living in Lanzarote, I picked up board sports: surf, wing-foil, skate. Humbling sports. You fall more than you glide. But you move. You listen. You breathe.
I also started taking regular yoga classes in Famara (I highly recommend it bwt !).
Then in June, we went to a well-being festival in Croatia (another biiiig recommendation).
There were workshops for both body and soul: Vinyasa flows at sunrise, grounding Yin yoga, vibrant Kundalini sessions, Qi Gong, breathwork, Kung-Fu, intuitive dance, sound journeys, cacao ceremonies, storytelling circles, inspiring talks...
Each evening wrapped up with a dancefloor full of barefoot souls moving to organic and melodic techno under fairy lights.
I finally exhaled. I met deeply inspiring humans. I listened to stories that cracked something open in me.
And for the first time in a while… I saw more clearly.
I mapped my life. My wants. My possibilities.
And thanks to another discovery, I also understood that I’m a multipotentialite. I don’t fit in one box. I am not what I produce. I don’t need to be profitable to have value.
My interest in yoga kept growing. Not as an activity. As a calling. A practice that aligns me, centers me, grounds me. That reconnects me to my body, my skin, my gestures.
To be honest, I used to be a hardcore gym-goer : HIIT workouts, high-impact training, anything that burned calories fast and made me sweat buckets. I thought it would help calm the fire burning inside me. Back then, I saw my body as a testing ground, built to be pushed to its limits and fatigue.
Yoga, on the other hand, slipped into my life like a cat on silent velvet paws. At first, I treated it like just another activity : something to balance out the intense, explosive workouts.
But something shifted.
With time, I began to notice: the more HIIT I did, the more restless I felt.
The more yoga I practiced, the more at peace I became.
And feel like I can balance better my emotions, my energy. It’s no mystery. 👀
These days, I wake up at 6:30. I meditate. I move. I’ve found my own balance between explosive workouts and yoga sessions (which, by the way, can be just as intense!).
I quit social media for several weeks to heal my relationship with it.
Instead, I started carving out space to simply get bored — observing my surroundings, noticing tiny details, tuning into my breath. It changed me in just a few weeks.
I no longer need social media to feel alive. I still use it occasionally, but the time I spend on it has dropped drastically.
Instead, I watch birds, insects, trees. I marvel. I’m more curious, more eager to learn about what surrounds me.
I feel alive. And that, truly, is enough.
I am enough. I am.
This September 2025, I’m starting a yoga teacher training in Bordeaux. The result of months of pause, listening, questioning. And finally knowing what I truly want.
One weekend per month, for a year. And alongside it, I’ll look for a "good enough job": something stable and simple that lets me create elsewhere. I’ll continue illustrating for my chemical company.
I share all this to deconstruct the myths around career change, and offer another lens on what comes after a burnout or bore-out.
My story isn’t universal. I know people who’ve had smoother rebounds. Sometimes, it’s harder after the collapse than during it.
But if you hold on, if you listen, if you dare to slow down...
You’ll learn more about yourself than any degree or job ever taught you.
Today, I no longer need to prep for job interviews like my life depends on it.
I know myself.
I know I won’t be the same in five years.
And most of all, I know what story I want to tell recruiters...
... and this time, it’s 100% authentic.
I hope that sharing this small piece of my journey might resonate with some of you — and maybe, inspire.
To close, I’d like to leave you with a quote I stumbled upon completely by chance, while listening to episode 113 of the Nouvel Œil podcast (link for french speakers), which explored the theme of uncertainty (featuring the inspiring Anouk Corolleur, surf & yoga teacher):
“Never ask your way of someone who knows it, for you might not get lost.”— Rabbi Nachman of Breslov
Sometimes, getting a little lost is the only way to truly find yourself! :)
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