Field Notes: 12 Experiments in Building Joy After Burnout
What happens when you stop postponing life for "someday" and start testing pathways to sustainable joy today.
What is Field Notes? Why I'm Testing Pathways to Joy After Burnout
My mom’s cancer diagnosis and getting laid off taught me a valuable lesson: ‘someday’ is a lie we tell ourselves. And I am done lying.
In November 2024, my mom was diagnosed with lung cancer. She swiftly received a lung removal surgery, followed by chemotherapy and a year of immunotherapy.
For months, I tried to balance full-time work with caregiving.
But I couldn’t handle both; I was slipping.
And then I was laid off.
What followed was months of survival mode—caring for my mom, job searching, and managing the shame of being laid off. I was piling onto my burnout, focused on fixing it instead of sitting in the grief. It took months for me to understand that I hadn’t just lost a job. I’d lost sight of what brings me joy.
I was so burned out I couldn’t even remember what joy felt like. I was exhausted, unmoored, and waiting for life to get easier before I could be happy again.
I could still find moments I enjoyed: a good meal, a fun weekend, a London fog, or scrolling through travel photos. But that deeper state of well-being, that inner sense of aliveness I used to carry? Gone.
For years, I’d been telling myself ‘someday.’ Someday I’ll do YouTube and get back to writing. Someday, I’ll move to Maine. Someday I’ll try van life. Someday I’ll be a digital nomad. Someday I’ll take a pottery class.
But here’s what I didn’t understand then: I thought those things would bring me joy. I thought if I just did them, I’d finally be happy…I’d be living my dream life. But the enjoyment was temporary. When I came home, I was still burned out, still waiting for the next thing to make me feel alive again.
I’d been treating joy like something external. Something I could get from doing the right things or being in the right place. But joy isn’t a destination. It’s not waiting for me in Maine or in a pottery studio. It’s internal. It’s a state of being I have to cultivate, not something I stumble into when life finally gets easier.
I’m done asking, ‘Can I finally do the things I’ve been postponing?’ I want to ask something deeper: Can I build a state of joy in the messy middle? Not wait for my mom’s cancer to be behind us, not wait for financial security, the right job, the weight loss, the right age, or the right headspace.
The Research Question: Can You Build Sustainable Joy in the Messy Middle?
Here’s what I’m doing: I’m spending the next year—my 33rd year, February 2026 to February 2027—running 12 experiments to answer one question: How do you build a state of joy that coexists with the uncertainty of life?
But I’m not just documenting this for content. I’m treating it like actual research.
This is like an autoethnography, where I’ll use my lived experience as data to understand something broader than just my story.
Here's how it works: I'm the subject and the researcher. I'll document 12 experiments in building pathways to joy, analyze what I'm learning in real time, and then find academic research to see whether studies back up or contradict what I'm experiencing.
The cultural phenomenon I'm exploring? What happens when people who were raised to believe productivity equals worth try to unlearn that belief and build lives rooted in joy instead? My story is just one data point. But it's happening across an entire generation of burned-out overachievers who are asking the same question: why not today?
This is where the personal becomes cultural. Because my burnout isn't just mine, it's what happens when an entire generation was sold a lie: that hustle equals worth, that linear career paths equal security, that you need to postpone joy for 'someday' and trade your present for a future that may never come.
My mom’s cancer and my layoff were the epiphanies that forced me to see the truth: that someday is bullshit. Joy isn’t something I earn after making enough money, suffering enough, or doing enough. I can build stability and live my dream life right now.
For years, I thought my dream life was out there in van life, Maine, creative work, or travel. But I’ve learned those things are just experiences. Without joy, they’re fleeting. My dream life isn’t a destination or a checklist. It’s building a state of joy that makes it all meaningful. And I can start building that right now, not someday.
So I’m testing it. Twelve months. Twelve experiments. Real methodology, real analysis, real findings.
How This Experiment Works: My Autoethnographic Methodology
So how do I actually test this? How do you measure joy?
Joy isn’t just feeling good; it’s living in alignment with your values, purpose, and personal growth (Roberts, 2025). For me, that means presence, contentment, and creative expression. It means building a life rooted in joy, not postponement. It means being willing to be seen trying to create, connect, and live with intention.
Over 12 months, I’m testing different pathways to joy in areas like creative expression, physical embodiment, discipline, exploration, reflection, connection, simplicity, and rest.
By the end, I want to understand:
Which pathways help build lasting joy?
Which ones are sustainable when life gets messy?
How do they interact with each other? (e.g., how does discipline allow for exploration)
And what does joy feel like compared to just temporary enjoyment?
Here’s how each experiment works:
Before: I document my expectations, my nerves, my reasoning for the experiment, and the excuses I used to postpone this for “someday.”
During: I immerse myself fully. Voice memos right after each experience capture raw observations—what happened, what surprised me, how it felt. Then I write descriptive field notes: the who/what/where/when/why, sensory details, outside forces that might affect the data.
After: Reflective analysis. What patterns am I noticing? What’s shifting? What am I learning?
By February 2027, I hope to know which pathways actually work for building a state of joy in my life, not what self-help books say, not what looks good on social media, but what my lived experience proves.
Will every experiment succeed? No. Some will probably fail, but that’s data, not defeat. Life might disrupt my plans. Research might contradict my experience. And that’s the point. This is a genuine inquiry, not proving a predetermined thesis. There’s no professor with a red pen, no grade at the end. Just me, 12 experiments, and whatever I learn along the way.
The question isn’t just “can I have fun” or “can I follow my passion.”
It’s bigger: Can I build something solid — stability, foundation, self-trust — while moving in ways that don’t look conventional?
Can saying yes to what excites me AND what challenges me actually create the life I want, or am I just being irresponsible?
And most importantly, can I stop the “someday” thinking and choose today?
What to Expect: 12 Monthly Experiments in Joy and Intentional Living
Starting in February, I’ll release one Field Note per month in two formats: a comprehensive written research paper on my blog and Substack, and a video breakdown on YouTube.
Why both? The video will include footage from the experiments, weekly updates, and me walking through the research findings. The written version has the full analysis but fewer visuals. Together, they give you the complete picture.
Each Field Note tests a specific hypothesis. The overarching question is the same —how do you build a state of joy that coexists with the uncertainty of life — but each month explores a different pathway.
Here’s February’s experiment:
What I’m testing: Pottery Class (creative expression)
The Hypothesis: Saying yes to creative expression I’ve postponed will build self-trust and contribute to a state of joy, regardless of skill level or outcome.
Every Field Note will include descriptive observations, reflective insights, academic research, and what I’m taking forward. You’ll also see glimpses of these experiments in my vlogs, Threads posts, and other content. But the monthly deep dive is the anchor.
One promise: Field Notes won’t be polished. This is my life. I’m telling the truth as I live it. Not the clean version, not the tidy arc, but the messy, honest field notes from the wilderness. Because for me, the worth is in the telling.
Why I’m Documenting This Journey (And Why It Might Matter to You)
I’m doing this for myself first. I want to build self-trust, to stop waiting for someday, and to cultivate a state of joy that will carry me through life and its uncertainties.
But I’m sharing it because I know I’m not alone in asking these questions. If you’ve been deprogramming from hustle culture and wondering how to even slow down, if you’ve been postponing joy, waiting for permission, trying to forge a new path, then this is for you, too.
Most people only share the “after” when they’ve figured it out. I’m showing the middle because that’s where most of us actually live.
My promise: no guru shit, just messy truth.
My first Field Note drops at the end of February.
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