Health / Mental Health / Personal Development / Self-reflection

What happened, you? That’s what happened, you

I am completely burnt out by Post-Concussion Syndrome (PCS), and I have been for months. Looking back, the signs were written all over this blog; subconsciously, I guess I have been singing these lyrics all along:

‘I’m lonely but I’m good
I’m bitter but I swear I’m fine.’

I Hate It Here, TTPD ¹

It is not just the physical toll of managing persistent symptoms that’s draining me; it is the crushing impact PCS has had on my entire life. It is exactly as Taylor sings in Now That We Don’t Talk,

‘So I pay the price of what I lost
And what it cost.’

Now That We Don’t Talk, From the Vault, 1989 (Taylor’s Version) ²

If you are wondering what caused this burnout, the answer points directly to the external forces I have been fighting. Taylor gives voice to that exact feeling in the 10-minute version of All Too Well,

“(…) What happened, you?
That’s what happened, you.”

All Too Well, (10 Minute Version), [From The Vault], Red (Taylor’s Version) ³

There isn’t just one “you” responsible for this burnout. There are three.

The first “you” – and the true catalyst for this exhaustion – is the brutal reality of navigating medical trauma. It is the heavy, relentless burden of constant self-advocacy in a system defined by endless waiting lists, a systemic lack of answers, and clinical gaslighting. Navigating this medical trauma has left me profoundly depleted. When I wrote, I’m in a new hell every time you double-cross my mind, or shared posts like right where you left me, and Am I allowed to cry?, I was processing this specific pain.

The second “you” is my former employer. Posts like loml and I haven’t met the new me yet, capture the deep pain I experienced because of the severe lack of compassion from my school – both at the exact moment of my accident and throughout my ongoing recovery. That workplace hostility completely consumed me.

The final “you” is a world that demands invisible injuries remain unseen. Posts like I want you to know I’m a mirrorball, and it’s time to go expose my isolation on this journey. Constantly masking my symptoms to fit in is exhausting, and this forced disconnection has directly fuelled my burnout.

Ultimately, the overarching “you” is the heartbreaking realisation that a truly compassionate society no longer seems to exist. Quite frankly, as Taylor sings in Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?,

“… Is it a wonder I broke?”

Who’s Afraid Of Little Old Me?, TTPD ⁴

For months, I let that brokenness take over as I tried to figure out how to survive in a world that demands so much but offers so little grace. But I have finally realised I cannot fix a broken system. I can only change how I interact with it to protect my peace. To keep myself afloat and prevent this burnout from worsening, I have established six strict boundaries that are keeping me alive right now.

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1. “Bureaucracy Wednesday” (10:00 AM – 11:00 AM)

I now restrict all administrative stress to a single, strict hour per week. Outside this window, I do not read or reply to official emails. I have disabled push notifications entirely and snoozed specific senders. Their messages are only to be read on Wednesday mornings.

2. Shimmering Restrictions

I now only attend social events where I can show up as my raw, unfiltered self. For too long, I have felt like a mirrorball, shattered into a million pieces, spinning, performing, and reflecting the light to make everyone else comfortable. I refuse to spend my limited cognitive battery ‘shimmering’ masking my symptoms to protect others from the reality of my illness.

If my PCS forces me to cancel plans at the last minute, I will no longer offer a long, apologetic script detailing my “excuses”. To borrow a phrase from Taylor:

“There will be no further explanation. There will just be reputation.“

Reputation Prologue ⁵

3. The Family Priority Rule

I strictly prioritise my daily energy for my husband and children. Spending my limited cognitive battery on the people who love me brings genuine joy to my heart and allows me to reconnect with who I am. By actively choosing my family over bureaucratic battles or social performance, I keep the balance tipped away from total burnout.

4. Halting the Medical Dead Ends

This was my hardest boundary to set due to the internal, agonising “what if there is help?” battle. Despite that nagging doubt, I have stopped pursuing medical answers in the UK for now. Continuing to fight a system that offers no solutions feels less like healthcare and more like emotional self-harm.

5. Protecting My Creativity

I am fiercely guarding the quiet activities that regulate my nervous system: baking sourdough, photography, running, walking, and slowly introducing sewing. These are non-negotiable tools for quieting my brain and allowing it the space it needs to heal.

6. “I Hate It Here, So I Will Go To Secret Gardens”

I am actively choosing to escape the harshness of this world just as Taylor describes in I Hate It Here.

“I hate it here, so I will go to
Secret gardens in my mind
People need a key to get to
The only one is mine.”

I Hate It Here, TTPD ⁶

While Taylor flees into her imagination, escaping into nature creates a living, physical secret garden for me. Immersing myself in the natural world lets me step completely away from a system that failed to show compassion. Out in the quiet landscapes, the fresh air provides a peaceful space to focus on my vestibular rehab, rebuild my physical strength, process my grief, connect with God, and finally feel safe.

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I cannot fix a broken, compassionless system, but I can refuse to let it break me further. By setting these boundaries, I am reclaiming my agency on my own terms.

When asked, ‘What happened, you?’, I can finally look back at the forces that tried to destroy my peace and say, ‘That’s what happened: you. But I stopped letting you break me, and I went to secret gardens instead.’

The Concussion Girl

1. Swift, Taylor. “I Hate It Here.” The Tortured Poets Department. Taylor Swift, 2024.  ↩︎
2. Swift, Taylor. “Now That We Don’t Talk,” From the Vault, 1989 (Taylor’s Version) Taylor Swift, 2023. ↩︎
3. Swift, Taylor. “All Too Well,” 10 Minute Version, Red (Taylor’s Version). Taylor Swift, 2021 ↩︎
4. Swift, Taylor. “Who’s Afraid Of Little Old Me?” The Tortured Poets Department. Taylor Swift, 2024. ↩︎
5. Swift Taylor. “Reputation Prologue”, Reputation. Taylor Swift, 2017. ↩︎
6. Swift, Taylor. “I Hate It Here.” The Tortured Poets Department. Taylor Swift, 2024 ↩︎