Hacked
This project combines an introspective essay and short film exploring burnout, achievement culture, and the psychological toll of over-optimization. Through a personal written work by creative author Julia Huth, the piece follows a college student caught in cycles of overwork, perfectionism, productivity, and emotional exhaustion while attempting to meet expectations, maintain success, and feel worthy through accomplishment. Beneath the pressure to “have it together,” this project reveals the unraveling that occurs when identity becomes tied to output, ultimately serving as both a cry for help and a reflection on the human cost of living in constant performance mode.
A Note from the Author ~
"I wrote this essay when I was in a dark place. Though college is often portrayed as a time to let loose and be free, my reality (and the experience of many of my peers) was the opposite. Determined to do the best I could in school and make my parents proud, I devoured all my energy checking boxes. Add in a couple of sour romantic relationships and past hurts, and the culmination was the perfect recipe for a mental health crisis.
This essay was a cry for help, and thankfully, several years of walking with God and learning to hear His voice has healed many of the parts of me that sought respect and love through accomplishments. I hope this essay is an encouragement to people who are struggling, letting others know that the pain isn’t pretty and the misery is real, but so too is the road to true freedom."
- Julia Huth
Hacked
An original creative writing essay by Julia Huth
Hacked
Life hacks, they say. “10 Ways to Optimize Your Schedule!” the poster screams. “Here’s why you procrastinate and how to stop,” a Pinterest meme instructs.
Scrolling through Instagram, an ad from V-shred tells me that I’ve been exercising the wrong way. “I have tailored, for every body type and person, the fastest way to get that body you’ve been working for! I know how to get you the results you want. Click below to take the quiz and get shredded!” Pictures of weak women and swole men flash onto the screen and I sigh.
Maybe the most disgusting thing is that I’ve taken all this advice to heart. I work out five days a week. Don’t overeat, but make sure you eat enough protein to gain muscle. My planners and reminders and calendar notifications keep me “on track,” because without them, I may forget an important due date or meeting or work appointment and become flaky or people might think I’m flaky or lazy and I don’t want that. The three jobs I have may collide, schedule-wise, so make sure they don’t. The Club has a budget meeting tonight and I don’t know if I should even go. Do I want the Club next year? Maybe it should die.
I used to say that I didn’t care about “success” the way that “society” or “the world” does, but every action I’ve taken would speak otherwise. Why do I work so hard? Why does keeping my 4.00 matter so much? Why can’t I let go and just relax?
Endless tasks. Wake up at 7:00 A.M., instead of 5:30 like I used to; it’s such a treat to sleep in late, read my Bible, get ready, no makeup, you don’t have time, go to the gym, eat breakfast, feel tired, shower, no makeup, you don’t have time, pack my book-bag, hurry to study in the library or studio, look at my schedule for the day, check my planner, shit, I forgot that was today, complete readings and assignments, sigh, take a two-minute Instagram break, start more assignments, study with Gabi, eat lunch, oh no, we’re going to be late, hustle to class, skirt out of class, find a quick homework spot, Julia; don’t waste time, not much time, I’m unhappy, attend another class, I want to graduate, dm everyone about MMA tonight, administration has sucked away my love for martial arts, text my boyfriend that, “I love and miss you and am looking forward to seeing you later,” email my clients their appointment times, distribute the Collegian, realize when I go pee that my paper topic is too broad and that’s why it’s not “flowing,” also realize my UTI isn’t gone yet, don’t forget why your paper topic is ineffective, maybe I should write it down; no, I’ll remember, start hating school, finish homework, facilitate the MMA club and practice Jiu Jitsu, shower, drive over to hang out with my boyfriend (hugs and kisses and cuddles), I wish I didn’t have to ask him for cuddle-time, he knows I can’t stay long and rarely drives to me, feel too tired, say sorry, say bye, drive home, unlock apartment, lug backpack and gym bag in, change into pjs, brush teeth, my back hurts, I need to start doing yoga again, and, DAMNIT I forgot what I need to change about my paper topic, I knew I should have written that down, sleep.
I’ve been saying lately that I feel more like a robot for work than a person for joy or life. Maybe God wants me to work this hard. I don’t know why I have the capacity to do so much, to get so much done. Is there such a thing as too much efficiency? Because I’m pretty sure that I have that disease. If I can get a 4.00 then that means I probably should.
My parents don’t care. I want to make them proud. “You’re doing such a great job, Julia.” They are helping me pay for college, I want to show them how much I appreciate it. “You’ve done so much better than I ever would have expected or required.” If I stop, I’ll lose my 4.00. “No one expected you to get a 4.00. We just wanted you to do well and get opportunities.” I want to lose my 4.00. “You know me, I just care about you being set up for success. You’re going to do well, no matter what.” Obviously I don’t want to lose it or I wouldn’t be trying so freaking hard.
Hack your life. Hack your schedule. Hack your brain.
My brain is hacked. It’s broken into and ripped wide open. The hardwiring is exposing its wires and I don’t like that. I used to be hard-wired, but now I’m wired out. Wearied out. Beaten down. Broken down.
My brain crashed for a while but it didn’t help because we rebooted it then I hacked it again. Therapy, medicine, and less, but it’s just a little time before it crashes again. I have no time.
I hacked my brain. There is only so much hacking one brain can handle.
Unhack my brain or hack me up because I can’t life-hack anymore.