I used to fantasise about being hospitalised

In June 2024, I confessed something to my friend Sabina Read, a clinical psychologist, that I’d never said out loud before.

I was having recurring daydreams about being hospitalised. Nothing permanently damaging. Just serious enough to warrant a week-long stay with no responsibilities and no access to my devices. A place where colleagues couldn’t reach me. Where the most demanding decision would be between lime or orange jelly.

Sabina had a name for it: ‘The hit by a bus fantasy.’

Not catastrophic enough to cause permanent damage. But bad enough to provide an escape from the pressure cooker I was in. As she pointed out, it’s surprisingly common for those experiencing burnout to desperately wish for something that would force the world to give you permission to stop.

The irony wasn’t lost on me.

I’m a CEO and organisational psychologist who has spent 20 years consulting to companies including Apple, Coca-Cola, Disney, Google, Lego and Nestlé. Boosting productivity and wellbeing is literally what I do for a living. And I had managed to completely miss my own burnout creeping in. The irony was almost funny. Almost.

At the time, my personal life was flourishing. My friends and family were in great health, I had recently re-partnered with the most wonderful man imaginable, and my daughter was thriving. But professionally? I felt like I was dragging myself through quicksand wearing lead boots. Every task required immense effort. Challenges that used to energise me felt insurmountable.

The physical signs were obvious, in retrospect. For the last six years, I’d lifted weights four times a week - almost without fail. But in mid-2023, the amount I could lift was gradually declining. This should have been a glaringly obvious warning sign. Instead, I told myself it was just a hard week and things would improve when things calmed down.

Of course, they never did.

Cognitively, decisions that should have been straightforward felt impossible. I would constantly second-guess myself. Anything requiring strategic or creative brainpower made me feel like my old brain had been stolen and replaced with that of a goldfish with ADHD. My mornings, once reliably productive, were hijacked by constant task-switching and distraction.

Emotionally, tiny things would trigger me. I remember receiving a slightly critical email from a colleague that sent me off into a stress spiral and led me to weep at my desk. It would have been water off a duck’s back for the old me. But at peak burnout, crying at my desk had become a weekly - if not daily - activity.

I was a master of ignoring and denying the early warning signs. Until my body, mind and emotions collectively told me: THIS IS ENOUGH.

When I finally admitted I was fantasising about hospital stays just for the enforced rest, I realised something had to change.

Not next month. Not after this big project. Now.

We’ve created a culture that rewards overwork and punishes rest. We applaud the person who ‘never stops’ while side-eyeing anyone who takes a proper lunch break. If nothing changes, nothing changes. You cannot push your way out of exhaustion.

That realisation became the beginning of the most motivated research and experimentation I’ve ever done. I tested strategies on myself and, eventually, on around 1300 willing participants. On average, the tools we tested led to a 40% boost in energy in as little as five days.

Cut to 2026 and my energy has done a 180. I wake up without dread. I work without brain fog. My dentist no longer worries about my teeth cracking from jaw clenching.

I’ve written a book about what I found. It’s called The Energy Game, and it comes out on July 7. Over the next few weeks, I’m going to share some of what’s in the book right here in my Substack.