Hey,
I know you’re reading this thinking “burnout won’t happen to me.” You’re 25, energetic, passionate about code. You can work 12-hour days and still feel excited about that side project. Sleep is optional. Weekends are for grinding. You’re going to be different from all those burned-out developers you’ve heard about.
I need to tell you something: you’re wrong. And I wish someone had told me what I’m about to tell you.
It starts so quietly you don’t notice
Remember that first project where you stayed late every night for two weeks? You told yourself it was just this once. Just until launch. You were so proud when you shipped it. The team praised you. Your manager called you a rockstar.
That was the beginning. Not the beginning of burnout itself, but the beginning of the pattern that would lead there.
Because “just this once” became the next project. And the next. And suddenly working 60-hour weeks felt normal. Expected. Like that’s just what good developers do.
You didn’t notice when you stopped reading for pleasure. When your guitar started collecting dust. When you canceled plans with friends because you were “too tired” but then stayed up coding anyway.
These weren’t red flags to you. They were sacrifices for your career. Priorities. Being serious about your craft.
The signs you’re going to ignore
In about six months from now, you’ll start having trouble sleeping. You’ll lie in bed with your mind racing about that bug in production, that architectural decision, that upcoming deadline. You’ll tell yourself it’s just stress. Temporary.
A few months after that, you’ll notice you’re forgetting things. Simple things. Why you walked into a room. What you were about to say. Whether you ate lunch. You’ll laugh it off. Joke about “developer brain.”
Then comes the irritability. You’ll snap at your girlfriend over nothing. Get frustrated with teammates for asking questions. Feel rage at minor inconveniences. You’ll think you’re just having bad days. Lots of them.
Your back will start hurting. Headaches will become your constant companion. You’ll get sick more often. Your doctor will tell you it’s stress. You’ll nod, take the prescription, and change nothing.
The worst part? You’ll notice all of this and do nothing. Because stopping feels impossible. The team needs you. The project can’t wait. Your career is finally taking off. How can you slow down now?
The moment it all crashes
I won’t tell you exactly when, because I want you to prevent it entirely. But there will come a morning when you can’t get out of bed. Not won’t. Can’t.
Your body will refuse to cooperate. Your mind will be blank. The thought of opening your laptop will make you want to cry. Or scream. Or both.
You’ll call in sick. Then sick again the next day. And the next. You’ll stare at walls. Sleep 14 hours and wake up exhausted. Try to code and find that your brain just… stops. Like someone unplugged it.
This is burnout. Real, clinical, debilitating burnout. And it’s going to take you eight months to recover enough to function normally. Eight months of therapy, medication, and learning to exist as something other than a productivity machine.
What you need to know now
That “rockstar” praise you’re about to get? It’s poison. They’re celebrating your self-destruction. A healthy company doesn’t need heroes who sacrifice their wellbeing. They need sustainable teams.
When your manager says “I know you can handle this,” that’s not a compliment. That’s them offloading work onto someone who won’t say no. You’re capable, yes. But capable doesn’t mean you should.
That promotion you’re gunning for? You’ll get it. But here’s what they won’t tell you: you could have gotten it while working 40 hours a week too. The extra 20 hours you’re giving them aren’t making you better. They’re making you tired.
Your side project? It’s supposed to be fun. The moment it becomes another obligation, another thing you “should” be doing, you need to stop. Coding for joy is different from coding for productivity. Don’t let the industry steal your joy.
What I wish you’d do differently
When that first “just this once” project comes up, set a boundary. Say “I can work late Tuesday and Thursday, but I need my other evenings.” Watch what happens. Spoiler: the project still ships. The world doesn’t end. And you don’t start the pattern.
When you feel tired, rest. Not after the sprint. Not after the launch. Now. Your body is giving you data. Listen to it.
Keep playing guitar. Keep reading novels. Keep seeing friends. These aren’t luxuries you’ll have time for “later.” They’re necessities for staying human. And humans need more than code.
Take your vacation days. All of them. Don’t save them. Don’t let them expire. Don’t be the person who brags about not taking time off. That’s not dedication. That’s self-harm.
Learn to say no. Practice it. “No, I can’t take on another project right now.” “No, I can’t work this weekend.” “No, I need to leave at 6 PM today.” It feels impossible at first. It gets easier. And it might save you.
The truth about sustainable pace
Five years from now, you’ll look back at all those 70-hour weeks. Want to know what you’ll remember? Not the code. Not the features you shipped. Not the bugs you fixed at midnight.
You’ll remember the concerts you missed. The relationship that ended because you were never really present. The hobbies you gave up. The version of yourself who used to laugh easily.
The developers you admire right now, the ones who seem so successful? Talk to them honestly. Most will tell you about their burnout. Their regrets. The health problems. The relationships that didn’t survive. Success in tech often comes with a price tag nobody mentions.
But here’s the secret they also won’t tell you: the developers who set boundaries from the start? They’re successful too. They just still recognize themselves in the mirror.
What I know now
I’m writing this from the other side. I recovered. I’m coding again. I even enjoy it sometimes. But I’m different now.
I leave at 5 PM. I don’t check Slack on weekends. I say no without guilt. I take mental health days. I have hobbies that have nothing to do with productivity.
And you know what? I’m a better developer now. Not despite the boundaries, but because of them. Rested brains write better code. Balanced humans solve problems more creatively. Sustainable pace beats burnout speed every single time.
The career you’re building right now will matter. But not as much as you think. Ten years from now, you won’t care about most of the code you’re about to write. You’ll care about whether you’re still healthy. Still happy. Still yourself.
What I need you to hear
You are not immune to burnout. Your passion won’t protect you. Your youth won’t save you. Your intelligence won’t prevent it.
Burnout doesn’t happen because you’re weak. It happens because you’re strong enough to keep pushing long after you should have stopped.
The warning signs are coming. Please, please pay attention to them. Don’t wait until you break. Don’t let “just this once” become your lifestyle. Don’t sacrifice your health for a career that would replace you in two weeks if you died.
You’re about to do incredible work. Build amazing things. Solve hard problems. You can do all of that while working reasonable hours, taking vacations, and maintaining a life outside of code.
Or you can do it my way. Burn bright until you burn out. Recover slowly. Rebuild carefully. Learn these lessons the hard way.
I know which path you’re going to choose. I was you. I made the choice. I lived with the consequences.
But maybe, just maybe, reading this will plant a seed. Maybe when that first “just this once” moment comes, you’ll remember this letter. Maybe you’ll choose differently.
Maybe you’ll save yourself years of suffering.
I hope you do. I really do.
Take care of yourself. Even when it feels impossible. Especially then.
Your future self,
Who wishes he’d listened sooner
P.S. – That side project you’re about to start at midnight? It can wait until tomorrow. Sleep instead. Trust me.
