My Facade is Crumbling

Where burnout and projection meet.

Welcome to Mirror Mirror, a reader-funded newsletter by me, Stephanie Gamarra. I’m passionate about aesthetic and creative expression, psychology, culture, philosophy and human connection. Mirror Mirror is an exploration of the intersection of all of these things and more. Please consider subscribing for weekly content, essays and cultural commentary.

---

It’s all shiny from the outside looking in. The travel to exotic places, the vintage apartment overlooking the palm trees, the life split between two of the most beautiful and dynamic places in the world. It’s not that the sparkle has completely faded; it’s always there, but sometimes it morphs into speckles of obscurity – dancing in my peripheral, distracting me like floaters in my field of vision after staring into the brightness of the sun for too long.

There’s a lot of content about burnout these days. We live in a society where more is always considered better. More travel, more success, more material wealth, and I’m guilty of wanting it all. I’ve been fortunate, although it hasn’t been without hard work and sacrifices, that it all manifested into reality. But that reality, sparkly as it may be like yours and everyone else’s, feels like too much sometimes. And when the facade is colorful and ornate, like the stunning modernist buildings that make up my neighborhood, it feels harder to accept that what lies inside can be far more complex.

Whenever things have gotten complicated, my mother always preached gratitude, “Be thankful you’re not experiencing x, y and z.” Her words always carried weight; I have never lacked the basic necessities. I have never experienced the true horrors that exist in this world, but that gratitude has come with a heafty price tag – guilt. So when my life that is filled with the joys of meaningful relationships, beautiful experiences, places and abundance, who am I to feel defeated by the stressors?

I know it’s not fair to me to think this way. Everything in life is relative and too much of a good thing, or many good things is still too much.

Today I went to my very expensive private session with my pilates trainer. I wanted to show up glowing, showcasing everything I learned at my fabulous retreat in Morocco last week, but I couldn’t. My mind was buzzing, all those sparkles firing in my brain like an electrical light show. Meanwhile, my body is fatigued from travel, from all the sudden changes I’ve been navigating the last few months and the responsibilities that come with building the foundation supporting my pretty facade.

I found myself listening to the same song on repeat, tears swelling in my eyes because the weight of it feels like more than I can bear right now. I want to cancel my plans, delay my visa, and put off my responsibilities. I want to lie down and listen to records and cry because there's something building inside of me that is weighing down my eyelids and my heart. I take deep breaths and wonder how people with “real problems” make it through the day because I have youth on my side, a home and a credit card, and no one who is counting on me in any real way.

Am I allowed to say I’m sad? I’m lonely. I’m exhausted and depleted and aching to share a warm bed with someone, but admitting that also crumbles my image of myself—a strong, independent single woman who is building a dream life all on her own. But it’s just that—an image, a projection.

I wanted to tie this message into one relating to all the people in my industry who work so hard to maintain their facades to make this fit the box in which I have defined this newsletter because that’s what my brain wants to do right now: make things fit into my perfect schedule so that I don't defer from the original program.

The truth is that being a stylist, a “content creator,” a writer, and whatever else it is that I do comes with its pressures (mostly self-inflicted), but in which industry or life is that not the case? The point is burnout exists even among the people whose lives look glamorous. So, instead of the essay I planned for this week’s Mirror Mirror content that’s half-written in my rough drafts, you’re getting this unfiltered, barely edited rant instead.

I know that no one else cares if I keep my schedule. My substack growth is slow and steady and not proving to be the side hustle I was hoping (yet), but beyond those markers, I am writing. In fact, the words are spilling out because I feel so much right now. Just keep writing, I tell myself. That is what I set out to do when I started this whole thing anyway.

So I will drink a glass of wine tonight with a friend instead of finishing the essay and leave you with this instead. I will fall asleep at least content that I sent out something this Wednesday. If I’m lucky, 200 or so of you will open it, and maybe a quarter of that will make it to the end.

If you did, leave me a little note. <3

---

On Repeat

I’ve come back to Andrew Bird many times over the years. There is something about his sweet melodies, interplay of instruments, and whistles that swirl inside me and make everything feel a bit less heavy.