What BTS Taught Me About Burnout and Balance

When the Work You Love Starts to Drain You

There’s a strange kind of burnout that creeps in when you’re doing something you love.

It doesn’t hit like a crash. It slides in quietly—through late nights, skipped meals, and one too many “just one more edits.”

That’s what happened to me while preparing 17 Syllables of Me for release.

Most nights I was working until midnight. I’d wake up groggy and unrested, then dive right back in. Saturdays blurred into Sundays. I’d serve at church, come home, and work again. The haikus were written, but I still had to polish the reflections, reformat the layout, revise the phrasing, redesign the cover, re-upload the files (again)—until I couldn’t tell where my energy ended and the book began.

I wasn’t resting.

I wasn’t even breathing.

I was producing.

And somewhere in that creative fog—where passion met pressure—I found myself thinking of BTS.

The Beauty—and Burden—of Perfection

In their early years, BTS operated on a breakneck schedule: three albums in one year, nonstop rehearsals, 14- to 16-hour days of choreography, recording, and performance. The world saw polished perfection. But behind the scenes, they were exhausted.

At the 2018 MAMA Awards, BTS broke down in tears, confessing they had considered disbanding earlier that year. They were overworked, burnt out, and beginning to question if it was all worth it.

That moment shattered the illusion that success is clean or easy. It revealed the cost of excellence—the internal weight that builds when your soul is on empty, even while your output is overflowing.

“What good will it be for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul?” — Matthew 16:26

I felt that.

In my own small way, I had started asking the same question:

Is all this pouring out really worth it if I’m left drained and fragmented by the end?

What Rest Taught Them—and Me

When the world paused in 2020, so did BTS. The pandemic canceled tours and halted schedules—but it also gave space for reflection. BTS began creating more personal work, launching solo projects, and, for the first time in a long time, slowing down.

I’ve heard them say the separation helped them appreciate each other more. J-Hope spoke of returning stronger, more grounded. Their message: stepping back isn’t the end—it’s a sacred return.

Even now, during their military service, they continue to teach us that unity can hold through distance—and that personal growth enhances collective strength.

That perspective gave me permission to pause.

Because I’ve realized: you can’t write from an empty soul. You can’t create while resenting the very thing you once loved. As BTS sings in Black Swan,

“If this can no longer resonate, no longer make my heart vibrate / Then like this may be how I die my first death.”

That line always struck me—not with fear, but with reverence.

What if burnout is the slow death of passion? And what if rest is the way we bring it back to life?

Rest Is Rhythm, Not Reward

I’ll be honest. There’s a part of me that wants to dive into my next project already. I’m curating poems for a second book. The ideas are flowing.

But I also know I need to rein myself in. I haven’t even stopped to celebrate what I just released into the world. I haven’t even sat with it long enough to hear what it might still be whispering back to me.

Rest isn’t quitting. It’s receiving.

It’s letting the white space in my haiku book reflect the space I need in my own life.

“The Lord replied, ‘My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.’” — Exodus 33:14

5 Soul Insights on Burnout and Balance

Soul Insights

1. Excellence without boundaries leads to exhaustion.

Creative fire is beautiful, but it will consume you if you don’t learn to step back. Mastery requires margin.

2. Success isn’t just about finishing the work—it’s about surviving it.

What’s the point of launching a book if your spirit is too depleted to feel joy when it arrives?

3. You can’t receive what you don’t slow down to feel.

I can’t even see the fruit of my work if I’m already sprinting toward the next harvest. Rest allows me to witness the beauty.

4. Rest is not weakness—it’s resistance.

In a world obsessed with output, choosing to pause is a holy act of trust. It says, “My worth isn’t tied to how much I produce.”

5. Even the brightest stars go quiet.

BTS reminded me: stepping away doesn’t end the story—it strengthens it. Rest isn’t retreat. It’s rhythm.

Final Thoughts: Rest Like You Mean It

Today, as 17 Syllables of Me is released into the world, I choose to pause.

To reflect.

To breathe.

To believe that the work I poured into this book deserves space—not just to exist, but to be felt.

And if you’re reading this—especially if you’ve supported this book—I want to say thank you. You’re holding not just pages, but pieces of my soul. I hope they meet you with honesty, beauty, and healing.

Because I’m learning to rest like BTS rested.

To reclaim the rhythm.

To return even stronger.

“Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes—including you.” — Anne Lamott

Soul Path Insights