India, Sept. 8 -- For years, I treated my body like an unpaid intern - working it to the bone, demanding endless overtime, and offering very little gratitude in return. If I felt a migraine creeping in at my desk, I didn't pause; I swallowed two painkillers, washed them down with an espresso, and kept typing. If my shoulders were hitched up to my ears in stress, I just considered it the tax for being a responsible adult.

I convinced myself I was fine because I was still standing. I was proud of my ability to "push through". But what I failed to realise - and what took years of burnouts to understand - is that pushing through isn't strength. It is a slow, silent borrowing against a bank account that will eventually go bankrupt.

We live i...