Burnout: My Story as a Dancer and Photographer

"Burnout" is one of those words that gets thrown around a lot, but living through it is something else entirely. For me, it didn’t just show up in one season of life; it’s something I’ve battled in different ways, first as a dancer in high school and now as a photographer. It has looked different each time, but the toll it took on me mentally, emotionally, and physically has been very real.

Burnout as a Dancer



My burnout really began my junior year of high school. Up until then, dance was my whole personality. When I wasn’t at the studio, I was in my home studio, drilling technique, choreographing, and improvising just for the joy of it. Dance was where I felt most like myself.

But then things shifted. When classes moved online, I was expected to keep up with YouTube videos from my teachers and tutorials they recorded. On paper, this shouldn’t have been a problem, I loved dance, I had the space, and I had the passion. But the more it was forced, the less fun it became. I would try, fail to keep up, and feel guilty that I wasn’t giving enough. It was the first time I realized that passion doesn’t protect you from burnout.

Then came senior year. I joined one of my high school’s dance teams and started the year with so much excitement. I loved my directors, I loved dancing alongside my teammates, and I thought it would be the perfect way to spend my last year of high school.

But over time, things changed. One of my directors became a huge source of stress for me. The way they ran rehearsals, the pressure, and the energy they brought slowly sucked the joy out of showing up. Add to that teammates who didn’t seem to care whether we looked like a cohesive team or not, and suddenly something I once loved became draining.

That’s the sneaky part of burnout: sometimes it doesn’t come from you. Sometimes it’s the culture, the expectations, or the people around you that make it harder to show up with your whole heart.

Burnout as a Photographer

Fast forward a few years, and I had found my way back to photography. Picking up my camera felt natural, and building On Route Photography has been one of the most fulfilling journeys of my life. But just like with dance, burnout found me here too.

This season came when I took on too much too soon in environments that left me feeling pressured instead of supported. Miscommunication, financial stress, and the weight of trying to meet everyone’s expectations, from collaborators to dancers to parents, all piled up. I felt like I was constantly walking a tightrope between creating something meaningful and proving my worth.

The stress and anxiety from this season didn’t just affect my mental health; it started showing up physically too. I was getting sick more often than usual, dealing with headaches I’d never experienced before, and spending nights wide awake, unable to sleep because of the pressure I felt. At one point, my body was so overwhelmed that my menstrual cycle became irregular. I skipped two months in a row and later had two cycles in a single month. Burnout was no longer just an emotional weight; it was something I was carrying in my body every single day.

What I realized through that experience is that the money side of photography doesn’t matter to me nearly as much as the creating does. I love collaborating, experimenting, and capturing people’s stories. That’s what lights me up. The pressure of having to constantly perform for the sake of income only drained that joy.

That realization is what pushed me to shift my business model to free sessions. It gave me the freedom to return to what I actually love, making art and connecting with people, without money hanging over every decision.

I’m still actively recovering from this burnout, but with this shift, I feel like I’m finally finding my way back to the heart of why I started photography in the first place.

What I’ve Learned About Burnout

The hardest part about burnout is that it sneaks up on you. One day you’re fueled by passion and excitement, and then slowly, without noticing, you’re running on empty. For me, dance and photography both taught me the same lesson: loving something deeply doesn’t mean you’re immune to burning out from it.

Here’s what has helped me (and what I’m still learning):

• Redefining success. For me, success isn’t about money or accolades anymore; it’s about creating work I’m proud of and enjoying the process.

• Removing myself from draining environments. Sometimes burnout is less about the activity and more about who you’re surrounded by. Stepping away from negative energy gave me space to breathe again.

• Listening to my body. The physical symptoms I experienced were wake-up calls. Rest, boundaries, and recovery aren’t optional; they’re necessary.

• Finding joy again. Going back to the basics, dancing just for myself and photographing just for the sake of creating reminded me why I fell in love in the first place.

Burnout is real, it’s messy, and it can feel isolating. But it doesn’t have to be the end of your passion. With time, boundaries, and a little gentleness toward yourself, it can actually be the beginning of rediscovering your love in a healthier way.