Orientation to the world around us has always been a value in my family. Daily newspapers, weeklies, monthlies, TV news, journalism, lots of books.
It goes without saying that I go to elections; I’m interested in many social, economic, and political topics. More than once, I’ve been socially involved or engaged in activism.

In recent years, however, I’ve begun to significantly limit my participation in this part of public life. Occasionally, I still look into journalistic pieces – I prefer the written word. But I’ve long since tuned out of news stories and sensationalist conversations and debates.

I’m heartily sick of rudeness, stupidity, simplification, aggression, cunning, people shouting and talking over each other, populism and the pursuit of short-sighted political interests without any long-term vision for the public good. I’m tired of the devaluation of values, the instability of the system (manifested, for example, in the overnight introduction of key legal changes), the narrative of power, fearmongering, and the constant telling me – as a woman – what I should do and think.
I can’t stand the tone of scandal, the clickbait headlines, the stoking of emotions, and the effort to keep us all perpetually “on high C.” The constant hype, judgment, and the all-knowing “I’m right” tone in public and private statements.
And of course, events such as the pandemic, the war across the eastern border, skyrocketing corporate and living costs – all in just the past five years.
Oh, and to top it all off: sociopaths and people of dubious reputation being elected as presidents – individuals who guarantee nothing but progressive destabilisation, insecurity, and more tragedy, even genocide.

I’m writing these words and already feeling exhausted.

“Life is hard enough without showing your worst side. The world doesn’t need exposing the negative”, writes David R. Hawkins in his latest book.
So I try to gain some distance, to create a buffer that protects me from being emotionally consumed by the world around me.
But is that even possible? Because I think it’s a bit too late for unconsciousness. I’ve entered a high level of anxiety and don’t really know how to neutralise it.

Unplugging from the mainstream gives me some hope – a glimpse that, beyond all this poor-quality noise, there are people trying to create a better reality through their actions and attitudes. One example is Dariusz Bugalski’s soothing conversation (in episode 252 of the K3 podcast, in Polish) with Dr Joanna Zięba about how to speak without persuading, lecturing, or pushing views – how to build dialogue based on mutual respect.

I have always been a sensitive person. I’m deeply affected by what’s happening around me. I grieve for farm animals, the mass logging of forests, the poisoning of rivers, the shooting of animals.
I strongly object to human interests being placed above clean air, water, and the abundance of nature. We fail to acknowledge that we are part of this system too – and that’s something I simply can’t understand.
I deeply disagree with how diversity and otherness are often seen as flaws – used as convenient excuses, rather than sources of richness, learning, and growth.

This world, on a grand scale, affects me too much – and I wish it affected me far less. I can’t keep up with the sheer number of problems “out there” and don’t really know what to do about it.

Then there’s the micro-scale: my everyday life, the here and now, where my sense of security is also faltering.

In over 18 years of running my own business, I’ve taken sick leave only twice – each time briefly, after minor procedures. Nothing serious. I generally don’t get sick. Of course, that’s great – but perhaps, had a crisis like the one I recently experienced come earlier, I would’ve realised how little I can count on in Poland as a self-employed person, despite paying taxes and insurance.

Let me be clear: I do not have a demanding attitude. I’m generally action-oriented in life. I take responsibility for my choices. But right now, I have to face the fact that somewhere along the way, my assumptions diverged from reality. I’m an idealist – that’s true. In my naivety, I believed that if I just worked honestly, things would keep spinning.

But now, experiencing a personal crisis in this area, I’ve hit a wall.

Any creative who’s self-employed will know what I mean. All the benefits that come with full-time employment simply don’t apply to entrepreneurs.
I don’t get paid holidays. If I’m sick and on leave, I can count only on a symbolic amount.
Don’t even ask about retirement.

For those unfamiliar with the realities of sole proprietorship, I had planned a short piece to shed light on it – and I even wrote it. But on second thought, I’ll leave it at that. Freelancers know. Full-timers probably don’t care.

Let me just point out two absurdities of the system.

First: running a business as a sole trader in Poland does not count toward employment seniority.
In May, it was announced on the official gov.pl website that this legislation is set to change in January 2026. That’s a potential breakthrough for creatives and freelancers working on B2B contracts – a long-overdue recognition of their professional path.

Second: until now, the Polish government (every single one) has failed to develop a social security system that takes into account the specifics of artistic work.
In March 2025, a bill on this issue was added to the List of Legislative Works of the Council of Ministers. So, finally – after 35 years – something may be happening.

Back to my past few months. Going on sick leave wasn’t an option. On 2,500 PLN a month, I can’t keep my business afloat.

So I had to keep going.
I wrote earlier that despite chronic fatigue and poor mental health, I couldn’t just take a break to rest and then get back to it. I had to remain professionally on standby the entire time. Business expenses are due whether you earn or not.

I didn’t want to see how inadequate the system is for freelancers – especially those who base their businesses on producing work or services and are irreplaceable as authors. These are not scalable businesses. I’m talking about artisans, makers, artists whose core activity is authoring/creating/co-creating culture – not delegating or expanding.

It’s like the saying: the middle class in Poland is just two unpaid loan instalments away from serious trouble.
For creatives and artists, it might be just a few weeks of illness that prevent them from working.

In recent years, I got caught up in the rush of everyday life, excelling in photography and art – which blurred the bigger picture and the long-term consequences of this model.
But there’s no alternative in Poland. Running a business is the only way to maintain insurance continuity.
I know artists for whom sole proprietorship is completely unprofitable. During artistic projects, they deregister from the unemployment office, sign a contract for specific work, and once the project ends, they re-register to keep their insurance.
Paranoia.
And let me remind you of something I mentioned in a previous text: when an artist starts a business, they stop being an artist in the eyes of the system. They become an entrepreneur. That’s the core problem.

I feel like I slept through that time. I just wanted to photograph, grow in it, do it well – for myself and my clients.
I didn’t think that honest, high-quality work might not be enough.
The last few years – due to the pandemic, inflation, rising business costs – have been financially tougher. My savings melted away.
Then came my personal crisis. And suddenly, I had no room to manoeuvre.
Despite fatigue, depression, concentration and creativity problems, I had to keep working. To support my clients well, I had to invest extra energy so they wouldn’t notice how low I felt.

And to maintain visibility, I continued marketing and self-promotion on social media – with a smile on my face, pushing past my limits. That’s probably why I feel such a strong need to publish these thoughts on burnout – to balance out the past year of putting on a brave face.

After years of operating at 300%, on constant alert, always active – I’ve reached a point where I want (need) to rest. And it turns out: I can’t.
Let me repeat – it’s like hitting a wall.
I’m not blaming anyone. I can’t say I didn’t know what I was getting into.
But I also pushed the risks aside, thinking: just a little more, and I’ll reach the next level – and then financial security will follow.
But not everything can be predicted. I didn’t plan on burnout for months.

I can already hear the comments: You knew what you were signing up for. Maybe you’re just not good at running a business. Maybe you’re doing it wrong. Entrepreneurs are pampered. Artists fail.
I did the best I could – with what I had.
And just to be clear – opinions from the couch and a full-time job don’t interest me.

Yes, I’m left with a bitter aftertaste. Because this system isn’t a partnership. And the culture of busy-ness I grew up in expresses itself precisely in this kind of repertoire.
I got caught up in the everyday – in perfecting what I do, developing my photography. I kept putting off the core issues for later.

And now… later is now.

May 2025

Articles in this series can be found under the category “burnout in freelancing”.