Take the Pause—Before You Break. by Cayman

Take the Pause—Before You Break. by Cayman - July 2025 Scholarship Essay

If I could go back in time and give one piece of advice to my younger self, it would be simple but life-changing: Take the pause—before you break.

I used to wear exhaustion like a badge of honor. I thought pushing myself past every limit made me strong. Whether it was working long hours with my dad under the hot sun, staying up all night trying to make everything perfect, or saying “yes” to everyone even when I had nothing left to give— I truly believed that burnout was just the cost of being dependable.

But here’s the truth I didn’t understand until life forced me to.

One night, right before my dad and I were supposed to go to a festival together, everything changed. He had been working hard all day, doing yard work and fixing the grill in the heat. I noticed how tired he looked, how much he was sweating, but he kept brushing it off like he always did—like I used to do.

Then he walked inside, said nothing, and collapsed on the kitchen floor.

The image of him lying there will never leave me. My girlfriend and I saw it happen with our own eyes. I dropped to my knees, panicked, called 911 with shaking hands, and sat on that cold kitchen tile trying to hold it together. He was dehydrated, worn out, and pushing through pain he never spoke about—just like I did.

He recovered later that night, thankfully, and we were all able to hug him in the hospital. But it felt like the universe hit pause on my entire world just to tell me: this is what happens when you keep pushing past your limits.

That moment cracked something open in me. It showed me how dangerous it is to treat rest like weakness. How harmful it is to carry everything for everyone and never stop to carry yourself.

So if I could meet my younger self—the me who thought taking a break meant letting someone down—I’d look him in the eyes and say, “You can’t pour from an empty cup. Take care of you too.”

I would tell him that strength is found in rest just as much as it’s found in work. That being present for the people you love requires you to be well—mentally, physically, and emotionally. That sometimes sitting down, catching your breath, and drinking some water is the bravest thing you can do.

I’d remind him that our worth isn’t in how much we do, but in how deeply we love, how well we listen, and how honestly we show up for ourselves.

It took watching someone I love collapse to realize I’d been doing the same thing internally for years.

But now I know better. And if my advice could reach that younger version of me, maybe I would’ve paused sooner. Maybe I would’ve asked for help earlier. Maybe I would’ve taken a deep breath and realized that I was enough—without having to be everything to everyone.

So here it is, the one thing I’d pass down to my past self:

Take the pause—before you break.
Take it because you’re human.
Take it because you matter.
Take it because love needs you here.

And honestly, that’s still advice I give myself today.