This is a riveting tale of Natalie Holloway, the 37-year-old cofounder of Bala, nestled in the bustling capital of dreams, Los Angeles. Be prepared—this narrative has undergone more editing than a reality TV show script.
Welcome to Burnout Land, Population: Me
The first time I acknowledged I was burning out, my husband and I decided to ditch our advertising jobs and embark on a spontaneous journey. You know, like a rom-com, but with fewer picturesque sunsets and more existential dread. This so-called “trip” jettisoned me from my relentless grind to a slow-motion montage where I could actually breathe.
The Side Hustle That Refused to Be a Side Hustle
Fast forward to October 2016: I returned to corporate life like a phoenix rising from the ashes—minus the fire, and more like a tired pigeon. Bala, our brainchild of cute wrist and ankle weights inspired by our adventures, was birthed into existence. I went all-in on this venture in 2019, and my husband followed suit in 2020, proving that the couple who hustles together, grinds together, until they both need a nap.
From Crushing It to Crushingly Discouraged
Five glorious years into our business odyssey, disaster struck—thanks, COVID! Suddenly, our fitness empire crumbled faster than a sandcastle at high tide, forcing us to lay off our entire team. Burnout hits differently when you’re pregnant and being asked to run an entire organization by yourself. Spoiler alert: it’s as fun as it sounds.
Burnout 2.0: The Sequel
Just when you think you’ve got it all figured out, life hands you a second round of burnout. I had to address my mental health like it was a car on the verge of breaking down. Cue the self-affirming mantras! I began telling myself, “I’m calm, present, and have an abundance of time,” because who doesn’t need to hear that while drowning in responsibilities and Netflix binges?
Marathon, Not a Sprint (Now Bring Snacks)
As we set forth on our journey to rebuild, my husband and I decided we weren’t racing towards the finish line; we were crawling towards it while sipping on lukewarm coffee. We had to rally our tiny, post-pandemic team (like herding cats, but with slightly better results). The goal? Regain our glorious momentum that had all but disappeared with social distancing.
Life Coach, or Therapist in Disguise?
So, I recruited a life coach, because clearly I don’t have enough people judging my choices. They help me sift through my to-do list, extracting what aligns with my values. Meanwhile, I quietly wonder who exactly values folding laundry or responding to emails at 11 PM. Even my life coach can’t revive that kind of enthusiasm.
Recharging with a Side of Irony
Despite traveling to cure burnout being off the table, I’ve resorted to “mini-recovery trips.” Think of it as bumbling through family vacations while attempting to savor that elusive mental reset. July is always spent in Lakeside, Ohio, with absolutely no plans, which is delightful if you enjoy the thrill of wide-open spaces and unplanned existential crises.
So there you have it: burnout may be inevitable, but how I handle it is up to me, like choosing between a robust therapy session or a Netflix binge. I keep reminding myself it’s all about playing the long game—even if that means taking frequent pit stops for emotional snacks along the way.
