unless a famous, widely celebrated creator announces a sabbatical<\/a> and the rumour mills immediately go into overdrive.<\/p>\nWhen work becomes your identity<\/p>\n
For influencers, the line between the personal and the professional is not just blurred; it barely exists. Rida Tharana, who has over two million followers, puts it plainly: content creators and influencers aren\u2019t the same thing.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
\u201cA content creator usually focuses on a specific topic, such as makeup, fitness, or books. Influencers share their lives along with their work. Their background, family, growth, and everyday experiences become part of what people follow,\u201d she says. Over time, that sharing creates parasocial relationships, where audiences feel invested not just in the content, but in the person behind it.<\/p>\n
When Rida started out, she wanted to share everything. \u201cI wanted to connect deeply and be liked,\u201d she admits. Five years in, she\u2019s learnt how draining that can be. The assumptions, the opinions, the pressure to please, it all adds up. \u201cYou eventually have to accept that some people will like you, some won\u2019t, some will stay, and some will leave.\u201d<\/p>\n
Drawing boundaries, she says, is one of the hardest parts of this life. And it\u2019s not optional. \u201cMany of my therapy sessions have been because of the mental impact of social media.\u201d<\/p>\n
Psychotherapist and founder of Gateway of Healing, Dr Tugnait sees this pattern repeatedly in her practice. The most common issue influencers come in with isn\u2019t something they label as burnout. It shows up instead as numbness, irritability, a vague sense of emptiness. \u201cA recurring line I hear is, \u2018I don\u2019t know who I am when the camera is off,\u2019\u201d she says.<\/p>\n
Burnout here is less about collapse, and more about losing emotional authenticity\u2014continuing to function, post and perform, without feeling alive.<\/p>\n
The algorithm doesn\u2019t rest<\/p>\n
Tanaya, an environmental researcher who began influencing as a side hustle, has around 500 followers on Instagram. Even reaching that number, she says, felt like a massive challenge. \u201cI\u2019m managing my full-time work and creating content at the same time, and it\u2019s not easy at all. Unlike bigger creators, I don\u2019t have an editor or a scriptwriter. Building a base is slow, and at this stage, every single follower counts.\u201d<\/p>\n
With that comes anxiety. \u201cSometimes it becomes too hectic to balance everything, and that\u2019s when you feel like giving up,\u201d she says. \u201cAnd I know this isn\u2019t just my story.\u201d<\/p>\n
Lifestyle creator Simran Keswani, 29, echoes that sentiment from a different point in the spectrum. She began creating content in 2020, during the pandemic, when growth felt easier. \u201cEngagement was high, watch time was better, and Instagram was pushing reels aggressively. Growth felt organic and motivating,\u201d she recalls.<\/p>\n
But as algorithms changed, so did the emotional cost. \u201cNo matter how much effort you put in, reels started getting less traction. You begin questioning your creativity and consistency.\u201d<\/p>\n
Burnout, she says, is baked into that reality. \u201cAlmost every idea feels like it\u2019s already been done. The pressure to stand out never leaves.\u201d What viewers don\u2019t see is the physical labour behind a 30-second reel\u2014daily makeup, lighting, repeated takes, editing. \u201cSometimes you\u2019re not even in the mood, but you still show up because consistency matters.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dr Tugnait points out that burnout is rarely caused by one thing. It\u2019s the result of chronic emotional labour without recovery. The constant need to feed an algorithm, the anxiety around falling reach, financial unpredictability despite visible success, and the inability to mentally switch off, even during illness or family events. \u201cThe nervous system stays in survival mode,\u201d she says. \u201cThe burnout feels quiet, but it\u2019s consuming.\u201d<\/p>\n
The invisible labour of \u2018showing up\u2019<\/p>\n
For Bengal-based food influencer Indrajit Lahiri, popularly known as Foodka, burnout arrived as a mental shutdown. \u201cMy mind just stopped working,\u201d he says of a phase a few months ago that forced him to step back. What began as a day off turned into two weeks without content.<\/p>\n
When he returned, the difference was immediate. \u201cMy head felt fresher. I started working with a clearer mind.\u201d<\/p>\n
Food content brings its own fatigue. \u201cI don\u2019t eat as much as I show,\u201d he clarifies. \u201cMedically, I\u2019m fine. But if you\u2019re constantly looking at food, mental fatigue sets in.\u201d His breaks are intentional and solitary\u2014three to five days alone, away from everything. Not a vacation, but a reset.<\/p>\n
He\u2019s also seen how hard it is for creators to step away, especially in Bengal, where he says mental health support is still misunderstood. \u201cPeople think going to a counsellor means you\u2019re \u2018mad\u2019. That mindset is the problem,\u201d he says. \u201cThe mind needs care just like the body.\u201d<\/p>\n
Living under commentary<\/p>\n
Then there\u2019s the audience. Not the supportive comments or the likes, but the daily drip of criticism\u2014lewd remarks, body-shaming, personal attacks. Trolling, Dr Tugnait explains, isn\u2019t just background noise. Experienced daily, it becomes psychological erosion.<\/p>\n
One creator mentions she began second-guessing her appearance even off camera. Another said she avoided social situations altogether, feeling judged everywhere she went (both chose not to be named). What makes online abuse particularly damaging is that it attacks identity, not just output. Over time, influencers begin to internalise the criticism, leading to anxiety, hypervigilance and withdrawal.<\/p>\n
Rida has responded by becoming selective. One part of her life she refuses to share now is her relationship status. \u201cWhether I\u2019m dating someone or not is something nobody on the internet will ever know,\u201d she says. \u201cThere are certain parts of my life I want to keep just for myself.\u201d<\/p>\n
It\u2019s a boundary drawn not for mystery, but for survival.<\/p>\n
The myth of the \u2018easy life\u2019<\/p>\n
Mental health is widely talked about online, yet many influencers hesitate to seek therapy themselves. Dr Tugnait calls it a paradox. \u201cThey fear appearing weak or inconsistent with the version of wellness or resilience they project.\u201d One client delayed therapy for over a year because he felt he had to embody strength at all times. Performative wellness, she says, becomes another burden.<\/p>\n
Creators agree on one thing, perhaps: breaks help, but only if they\u2019re real. Not algorithmic pauses where you\u2019re still tracking metrics, still worrying about relevance. True rest requires mental disengagement\u2014and the permission to step away without guilt.<\/p>\n
Burnout doesn\u2019t always look dramatic<\/p>\n
Dr Tugnait has seen extreme cases: panic attacks before posting, months of insomnia, compulsive posting during physical illness, and creators who stopped recognising joy altogether. But she\u2019s quick to point out that burnout doesn\u2019t always look dramatic. Sometimes it looks like numbness. Sometimes it looks like productivity without pleasure.<\/p>\n
The myth she wishes would disappear is that influencer lives are easy or emotionally secure. \u201cVisibility does not mean fulfilment. Validation does not mean safety.\u201d<\/p>\n
Behind the curated feeds are people navigating constant exposure, comparison, financial uncertainty and the pressure of being watched. Acknowledging that doesn\u2019t deny their privilege, it simply humanises their experience.<\/p>\n
– Ends<\/p>\n
Published By: <\/p>\n
Tiasa Bhowal <\/p>\n
Published On: <\/p>\n
Jan 27, 2026<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"It didn\u2019t begin with a breakdown. There was no public announcement, no sudden disappearance from Instagram, no teary…\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":440590,"comment_status":"","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[35],"tags":[64,63,137,514,515],"class_list":{"0":"post-440589","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-mental-health","8":"tag-au","9":"tag-australia","10":"tag-health","11":"tag-mental-health","12":"tag-mentalhealth"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/au\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/440589","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/au\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/au\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/au\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/au\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=440589"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/au\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/440589\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/au\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/440590"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/au\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=440589"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/au\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=440589"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/au\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=440589"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}