I got back from my seven-night cruise on the Norwegian Bliss this past Sunday, and I still don’t feel well. My post-cruise recovery is taking way longer than I thought.
For the last three days, I’ve mostly slept and tried to keep my tummy troubles to myself. My body feels drained, like it’s been unplugged and has forgotten how to reboot itself. I’ve been operating in “low-power” mode. The only things I’ve done consistently are nap and hydrate.
Thrilling, I know. Try not to be jealous of my not-so-glamorous life.
But here’s the kicker: while I’ve been sprawled out in bed, half-asleep and half-awake, a question someone asked me on the ship has been echoing through my brain like a church bell: “When was your last full day off?”
I laughed when he asked. I figured I could name a random Wednesday or a lazy Sunday. Maybe a morning I didn’t open my laptop. But when I tried to answer, I couldn’t remember.
A full day off? As in nothing? No writing? No posting? No editing? No researching? No planning? No tinkering with drafts? No mental gymnastics to justify why I couldn’t be even more productive?
Crickets. Nothing. Just the sound of my stomach twisting into knots.
And that’s when the nausea began. And has not stopped.
THE DATA DOESN’T LIE…UNFORTUNATELY
Once I got home, between disco naps and hydration breaks, I pulled up my Substack posting history to see exactly when my last true day off was:
July 24, 2024. July. Twenty-fourth. Twenty. Twenty. Four!
I knew I’d been writing daily since I started crawling out of my creative cave back in February. What I didn’t realize was just how long I’d been grinding before that.
It wasn’t until I looked at the numbers that it hit me: nearly 1,000 posts on Substack and more than 400 long-form videos on YouTube—in less than two years.
That’s not a hobby. That’s a full-time vocation. And apparently, I’ve been the busiest bee buzzing from project to project without stopping long enough to enjoy the honey. Or realize the severity of my own exhaustion.
THE SNEAKY SIDE OF BURNOUT
Burnout doesn’t always knock politely. Sometimes it kicks down the door wearing steel-toe boots.
And here’s the thing I didn’t realize: I’ve always associated burnout with “real” jobs or demanding clients. I didn’t understand I could burn out doing the work I love—my own creative work—because it felt joyful, purposeful, and mine.
Turns out? Passion doesn’t make you immune to exhaustion.
Sometimes burnout makes your stomach do somersaults. Sometimes burnout arrives disguised as insomnia in the middle of the night. Sometimes burnout waits until you’re out on the Pacific Ocean to whisper: “Howdy, Clint…you’re exhausted. Time to chill!”
I genuinely thought the cruise would fix me. Sun! Sleep! Cocktails! New friends! Time to read and enjoy ocean breezes! A pianist covering Nina Simone like her heart was made of stardust!
But it seems temporary relaxation isn’t a magic wand.
I couldn’t outrun burnout. Not even at sea. Turns out, you can’t out-cruise your own chaos, especially when you insist on working through your so-called getaway. That one’s on me. No one’s fault but my own. It’s my own inability to unplug.
Eventually, my body filed a formal complaint: tummy trouble, foggy brain, and a full-system shutdown that has left me horizontal, humbled, and wondering why rest feels like the one thing I still need permission to take.
Guilty as charged.
WHEN REST ISN’T REST
Here’s a trap I fall into regularly: I confuse getaways with breaks.
Going on a cruise isn’t the same as unplugging.
Being away from home isn’t the same as taking time off.
Sipping rum and Coke in the Observation Lounge isn’t rest if my brain is still working in the content factory half the day.
Even my downtime has been disguised productivity: Drafts. Photos. Ideas. Planning. Promoting. Responding. Thinking about responding. And convincing myself that reading counts as rest because “it might inspire future content.”
My brain has been working overtime for months. No wonder my body staged a mutiny.
WHAT I DIDN’T EXPECT TO DISCOVER
The cruise didn’t just introduce me to new people and new ports of call. It held up a mirror and showed me the version of myself I’ve been too busy, too focused, and too damn distracted to notice on land. (I’m beginning to suspect I may be a bit ADHD as well. Anyone else?)
What I saw wasn’t mysterious. I saw a man who is passionate, creative, driven—and absolutely terrible at balance. Give me a deadline, a dream, or an idea I believe in, and I’ll sprint toward it like I’m trying to qualify for the Olympics.
But ask me to rest? Suddenly, I’m flailing. Rest feels suspicious. Silence feels like failure. Doing nothing feels like wasting time. And I’ve convinced myself I already wasted enough time in the cave, so now I need to make up for lost time.
But being forced to rest these past few days has revealed something unsettling:
I’ve been so busy showing up that I forgot how to slow down and dig deeper.
I’ve filled most days with output and created little time or space for input. I haven’t let silence work its quiet magic. I haven’t given ideas room to breathe, evolve, or surprise me. I’ve been sprinting across the surface instead of exploring what’s underneath.
Out there on the open seas, staring at the horizon, it finally hit me:
I don’t just need time off.
I need time in. Time in my thoughts, my curiosity, my joy, my body, my life.
The cruise didn’t burn me out. It revealed that I was already burned out—shining like a beacon without realizing I was the one on fire.
And once I saw it, I can’t unsee it. So I have to do something about it.
NOW WHAT?
Honestly? I’m not entirely sure yet. I’m somewhere between denial and acceptance, but I do know this: Some things have to change and shift.
I have to pace myself better.
I have to dig deeper.
I have to protect the light I worked so hard to reignite.
I have to take better care of myself, mentally and physically.
Practically speaking, that means I’m taking a few days off. My current plan is to start posting the newsletter a couple of times a week (I’m thinking Sunday and Friday) and start creating and posting more videos again.
I’m definitely not quitting. I’m just finding a better, more sustainable way to create.
THE LESSON I DIDN’T KNOW I NEEDED
If you’ve been hustling nonstop—creatively, emotionally, physically—please consider this your friendly reminder too:
You can love what you do and still need to rest.
You can be grateful for your dreams coming true and still take a nap.
You can be committed without burning yourself out faster than a dollar-store candle.
Rest isn’t a reward. It’s maintenance. And pacing yourself isn’t optional if you want to keep making art, telling stories, and living a full, happy life.
I started learning that on the Bliss. It took me coming home to admit it to myself.
Now excuse me while I go rest some more.
Keep calm and recharge on!
Clint 🌈✌️
P.S. You’ll notice today’s newsletter, and those going forward, focuses on our rainbow family birthdays and skips some of the usual extras. I’m open to feedback, but please be kind…or kindly rewind elsewhere. Thank you for your support and understanding.
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BORN THIS WAY, THIS WEEK = DEC. 10-13
12-10 = Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) = American poet 🌈
12-10 = Hermes Pan (1909-1990) = American dancer and choreographer 🌈
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12-11 = Alvin Baltrop (1948-2004) = American photographer 🌈
12-11 = Jean Marais (1913-1998) = French actor 🌈
12-11 = John Preston (1945-1994) = American author and editor 🌈
12-12 = Brandon Teena (1972-1993) = American subject of Boys Don’t Cry
12-12 = Ed Koch (1924-2013) = American politician 🌈
12-12 = Edvard Munch (1863-1944) = Norwegian painter 🌈
12-12 = Gustave Flaubert (1821-1880) = French novelist 🌈
12-12 = José Sarria (1922-2013) = American drag queen and activist 🌈
12-13 = Anton Hysén (1990- ) = Swedish soccer player 🌈
12-13 = Jim Fall (1962- ) = American film and tv director-producer 🌈
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PORTRAIT + QUOTE OF THE WEEK
“The most glorious moments in your life are not the so-called days of success, but rather those days when out of dejection and despair you feel rise in you a challenge to life, and the promise of future accomplishments.”
Gustave Flaubert




Clint, your room, your way, we'll be here with you whatever. 🫂🫂 Cheers DougT 🇫🇴🇬🇧
I hate when I start a comment then forget to save or send and have to begin again. Just wanted to make myself feel better and be more careful in the future.
Regarding burning your candle at both ends: Did you ask for my advice? Did I hear you say no? I will give it anyway 🥰. Change is always painful. Discovering new things about oneself that one is not pleased about, is always painful. Admitting that self perceptions have not been accurate thus necessitatig change, is always paindful. I feel for your pain. But that pain is the first step in awareness and becomming new, rediscovering who one was and who one wants to be. I can imagine that quite a few new lessons were learned while at sea has cause you to “feel at sea”.
I understand burnout but at 80, I also understand balance, rest, time to play vs time to work, self-motivation vs self-chastisement. I find that if I do not create for several hours each day, if I do not write for several hours each day, I feel empty! But I also relish my naps, my good meals, my family and friends. I also enjoy my solitude and I never feel alone because I always have me to be with. Balance in all things.
Congratulations on beginning new beginnings. Congratulations on taking new trips to new destinations. Congratulations to being more Clint (or whatever your name is 🥰) than Clint.
I love getting to know who you are, who you may have been, and who you might become. Keep up the good work.
Fondly, Michael