Christian Van Gils

The rhythm of worry starting 24 hours too early. The sun was shining, he was reading a good book, and his partner was laughing in the kitchen. Logically, he was happy. But deep beneath the surface, the subtle, cold knot of Sunday night dread had already tightened in his stomach. The thought of Monday, the meetings, the demands, the volume, had preemptively stolen the peace of the present...

The exhaustion that settles in the throat. She had been talking all day: meetings, calls, conflict resolution, motivating, persuading. By 4:30 PM, her throat felt dry and raw, but the exhaustion was deeper. The mental energy required to constantly articulate, negotiate, and perform had simply run out. She sat in silence, physically unable to form another coherent sentence. It wasn't a lack of...

Setting a boundary you must physically cross. For months, he had worked from the kitchen table, blurring the line between work and home. He was always 'on.' Today, he made a rule: work stops at 5:30 PM, and he had to leave the apartment for 15 minutes. At 5:30 PM, he locked his desk and walked out. He didn't check his phone; he simply walked around the block. When he returned, the space felt...

When the need isn't for food, but for self-care. She rushed through the door at night, immediately feeling a panicked, demanding hunger. She opened the fridge, ready to devour the first thing she saw. She was stressed, tired, and her brain interpreted the emotional deficit as a calorie deficit. But as she reached for the snack, she paused. The hunger wasn't coming from her stomach; it was...

The nervous tic that confirms you're never truly offline. He was sitting at dinner, laughing at a joke, when he felt the familiar, subtle buzz of his phone in his pocket. A crucial email. A late-night request. He excused himself immediately, reaching for the device. The screen was black. There was no notification, no text, no email. The vibration had been entirely phantom, a neurological...

The metric that measures your worth, not your output. She received her quarterly performance review: "Exceeded Expectations." The email was glowing, full of praise and numbers. But before she could celebrate, her brain had already calculated her internal score. She had skipped three nights of sleep, canceled four friends' dinners, and cried once in the supply closet. The external score was...

When your presence is loud but your contribution is quiet. He attended the mandatory team-building event. He laughed at the right jokes, complimented the catering, and performed the required enthusiasm. He was physically present, a warm body in the room, but his mind felt miles away, watching the scene detachedly. He hadn't contributed a single original idea all afternoon, yet he felt...

The gradual, grinding friction of decompression. The drive home was always the same: an hour of traffic lights and engine noise. But the commute was less about mileage and more about mental distance. He used the hour to physically shake off the meeting tension, to mentally file away the day's grudges, and to force his face into an expression suitable for family life. The friction was loud—a...

The power felt in the unclicked 'send' button. She spent four hours crafting the perfect resignation letter: professional, decisive, and final. She detailed the workload imbalance, the toxic culture, and the absolute collapse of her personal life. She proofread it three times, savoring the clean, sharp relief of the decision. She clicked 'Save As' and filed the document in a hidden folder...

The exhaustion of performing recovery. The Weekend by Michael Gray: A disco-house hit that's specifically about "living for the weekend." Sunday evening. Her colleague messaged her: "Hope you had a relaxing weekend!" She replied instantly: "It was great, totally recharged!" The reality was she had spent the entire weekend staring at the ceiling, dreading Monday, and feeling profound guilt that...

The weight of absorbing a colleague's crisis. Her desk mate confided in her about his imminent layoff. It was a brief, desperate conversation. She offered comfort and empathy, using the correct, professional phrases. But after he walked away, she felt a profound physical coldness. The news wasn't about her, yet the emotional data—the fear, the instability, the injustice—had been downloaded...

The ritual of self-protection before logging on. Before opening her laptop, she performed a small ritual: two minutes of meditation, followed by drinking a full glass of water. It wasn't about mindfulness; it was about building an invisible shield. She knew that the moment she logged in, she was entering an arena of urgent demands and emotional turbulence. The small ritual was her only...

When adaptation costs more energy than execution. The company announced its fifth major strategic pivot in eighteen months. The new mission statement was exciting, dynamic, and completely negated the last six months of her team's work. She realised that the constant need to adapt, re-learn, and discard old systems was costing more energy than actually doing the job itself. The exhaustion wasn't...

The moment you realize you're spending tomorrow's reserves. It was 10:00 PM. She was still working, focused on finishing a project that could easily wait until morning. She felt a second wind, a manic clarity fuelled by necessity and caffeine. But deep down, she heard the quiet alarm: she wasn't running on reserves; she was spending tomorrow's entire energy budget today. She knew the invoice...

In business, we hate "unplanned downtime." We invest in predictive maintenance for our machinery. But when it comes to our most important asset, our people, we rely on a reactive system. We wait for the sick note. By then, the cost is already incurred. The "Silent Crash" is the phase where employees are physically present but mentally disengaged due to a mismatch in energy and pressure. In...

The noise barrier separating purpose from panic. His phone buzzed incessantly, notifications from four different platforms, each demanding urgent attention. He watched the screen light up, realising the true barrier to his productivity wasn't the difficulty of the task, but the sheer volume of the digital noise. Each buzz was a tiny, high-pitched demand on his emotional reserves. He flipped the...

The quiet fear of being immediately replaceable. She watched a new hire seamlessly integrate into her previous, long-vacant role. The newcomer was younger, faster, and used the new software effortlessly. The transition was so smooth, so efficient, that it instilled not relief, but a deep, cold fear. If the company could replace her critical function with such speed and grace, what did that say...

When the only person you lie to is yourself. The well-being survey landed in his inbox: "On a scale of 1 to 5, how often do you feel overwhelmed?" He quickly selected '2' (Rarely). But as he clicked the button, his internal voice screamed '5' (Constantly). The discrepancy was automatic, a reflex of professional self-preservation. He wasn't lying to HR; he was lying to the mirror. He closed the...

The radical act of claiming digital darkness. He told his team he was taking a "digital day off." No emails, no Slack, no calls. He fully expected the urgent texts, the passive-aggressive calls asking "if he saw the note." But nothing came. The silence was profound. He realised the ghosting wasn't a punishment for the company; it was a punishment for his own self-importance. The world hadn't...

The single breath required to stop the slide. She stood by the coffee machine, mindlessly stirring her drink. A voice inside asked: Stop. How are you, really? It took twenty seconds, no more, to scan her internal state. Not just 'busy,' but the real answer. That brief, mandatory pause was a new discipline, a small act of self-interrogation that cost nothing but prevented everything. 😊 😐 😰 😵 💖 A...