I sometimes have trouble saying no. Especially to myself.

I make a lot of promises … mostly to myself. But being the way that I am, these promises usually — quickly — turn into commitments, which turn into goals, which become projects I will do anything and everything not to abandon no matter the cost.

I should have known that when I committed to writing 1 million words last year, there wasn’t going to be a “maybe next year.” Once I was in, I was in. Even when I fell thousands of words behind. Even when I began to hate everything I was writing.

Even when all I wanted to do was quit and forget it ever happened.

Don’t get me wrong — I am so happy that I met my goal, and the positive things I took away from the experience are going to make a lot of great material for this blog later this year … and maybe something more.

I almost didn’t make it, though. And the effort I put into making sure I didn’t “fail” has had the exact consequence I hoped so desperately to avoid.

In order to meet my goal, I took a week off from my day job at the tail end of December and spent pretty much the entire “vacation” writing. I did not rest, and honestly — aside from some projects I really, really loved working on during that time — I did not enjoy it.

So when January hit, I “sort of” took a break from writing. For a week, maybe. But I also jumped straight back into my day job, which I found myself more motivated to work harder at than I had almost the entire previous year. Then I started writing again, because BLOG POSTS!

And then it was the middle of February … and I started to not feel good. Like, at all.

Mentally and emotionally, I still felt amazing. I was and still am fairly healthy in that department now that I’ve shaken off some of the not-so-fun things that went down in my personal life last year. But physically, I felt ill. I’d started half marathon training weeks before, and though I could do the distance, it wiped me out every time I trained. I started going to bed almost two hours earlier than normal and I’d still wake up exhausted.

Waking up too longer … and more caffeine (bad idea, I know). I felt like I was dragging myself through my work. Writing blog posts became the most difficult part of my day, and I hated that. But I just couldn’t get it together. I was happy (still am). But I had no energy.

Eventually it caught up to my headspace too. I lost all motivation to push myself. Getting through the minimum amount of work was barely manageable. But I just kept doing it.

I’m still doing it.

This is what burnout looks and feels like. It’s not a joke, it’s not some complaint we’ve made up to have an excuse to not do our work. It is real, it is painful, and it lasts a long awful time.

I am exhausted.

But this is not the kind of exhausted that goes away after a good night’s sleep or a day composed only of sitting on the couch watching cooking videos for fun. No. This is the kind of exhaustion that appears, settles in, and sticks around. Not just for a week or two, but instead for months.

I am okay. I am giving myself breaks. I am saying yes to fewer things. I am taking my time. I am moving forward.

The problem is that I’m having a hard time shaking off the negative feelings I’ve developed toward this challenge — even toward the knowledge that I actually did something really cool. I almost resent it. Yeah, I wrote a bunch of words. But what was the point?

There was, of course, a point. I learned and grew so much as a writer and creator, and I want so much to be able to share all those things with all of you. That’s why I did what I did — so that I could go off and do this very difficult thing and come back to you with lessons and tips and truths, all to help you grow like I did.

But I can’t. Not yet. Because it still feels like I worked 80-hour weeks for almost a year straight … pretty much because I did. Or the equivalent in energy expenditure, anyway.

I can’t turn all this around and use it as a teaching method when looking back on all my struggles still makes me wish I hadn’t done it. Because while I want to keep it real and be honest and admit how challenging it really was, I also don’t want to paint such a negative picture that I’m discouraging or scaring off anyone who might be curious.

I want to look back on all this with the best outlook I can while also being realistic. Right now, I still don’t even want to think about the fact that I put myself through a LOT to accomplish what I did, and didn’t give myself the time I needed to recover from it.

Even though I can’t do that yet, I hope to soon. I really do. Because I have so much to tell you.

Thanks for sticking with me through all this, as always. Write on, my fellow writers.

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Meg is the creator of Novelty Revisions, dedicated to helping writers put their ideas into words. She is an editor and writer, and a 12-time NaNoWriMo winner. Follow Meg on Twitter for tweets about writing, food, and Star Wars.

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