It’s that time of year again. Brightspace is a never-closed tab on our computers, heavy clouds block our windows from the usual blue-ridden skies and professors seem to forget that the four other classes in our schedule exist. Yep, you got it: midterm season. 

If this time of the semester has anyone else feeling completely beside themselves with stress and anxiety, you’re not alone. This week, I had a particularly close call with a common flu that strikes many fourth years when classes get tough. Senioritis, a cold I last caught almost four years ago in high school, is viral yet again. 

Maybe it’s the weather cooling down or the 400-level classes actually acting like they’re 400-level, but my mind somehow feels like it stays seated on my nightstand when I wake up in the morning and walk to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I have been undeniably ridden with brain fog, walking in and out of classes without an ounce of material having entered my ears the whole two hours. 

My least favorite part of being burnt out is the guilt. I would consider myself a truthful person, one who is rarely responsible for any action bringing purposefully poor moments to others, and yet I am still riddled with guilt, day in and day out. I was technically raised Catholic, so maybe that explains why, but I assumed the guilt complex was only instilled in us after Confirmation — I only went through with my Communion in the third grade. 

I feel guilty when I attempt to relax. I feel guilty when I spend money on lunch because I didn’t pack one from home. I feel guilty when I did pack one and hate it because I’m an amateur chef and haven’t perfected weekly meal prep. I feel guilty not raising my hand in class. I feel guilty hiding in my room watching “Gilmore Girls.” I feel guilty wasting the pages of this newspaper with my guilt. 

If you or anyone you know is experiencing burnout, there isn’t a number you can call or a remedy you can take. Some people resort to Adderall for this issue, but I cannot legally recommend that outlet. Others, like me, find isolation as a comforting tool to recover from the trials that plague us in the middle of term. Some decide to pretend the whole school thing doesn’t exist, which I applaud, but as we’ve discussed prior, my guilty conscience makes that damn near impossible. 

We’re 450 words in now, and I haven’t mentioned a sport once. And honestly, I will feel guilty about that if and when my eyes cross this section. But I’m burnt out with sports. Many friends of mine use sports as their break, their reprieve from the real world and their cure for burnout. But what if sports are why I’m burnt out? Three out of four of my classes this semester have the word “Sports” in the title. The final class is Writing 340 and I don’t think I need to explain why I’m burnt out by Writing 340. 

I believed that by stacking my sports classes this semester, I’d feel inspired, motivated and determined to succeed like all the sports heroes we learn about in class. Unfortunately for my professors, I am sick of it. I’m sick of talking about the NFL and losing in a Fantasy pool I paid to join. I’m sick of USC football once again, not living up to expectations. Finally, I’m sick of working myself to the bone over a subject that I don’t think will pay me enough to make a living when I’m out of college. 

Sorry, you caught me on a bad day. Or a bad week … Aside from my anti-sports rant included in this week’s edition of “Heart to Heart,” the moral of the story is that burnout is not an isolated experience. Everyone goes through it, which means everyone will have a different way of getting through it. My fellow sports writers probably see the NFL as a break. Me? I’ll stick to “Gilmore Girls.” 

Dana Hammerstrom is a senior writing about the mental health of collegiate athletes, as well as the emotional pressures they face, in her column, “Heart to Heart,” which runs every other Friday.