My Figma Burnout

The Tool That’s Burning Us Out — And Why No One Talks About It

Burnout in UX design isn’t new. Long hours, endless iterations, constant feedback loops — it takes a toll. But what I didn’t expect was burnout caused by a tool. Not the work itself, not the deadlines, but Figma.

At first, Figma felt like a revolution. Everyone was raving about it — collaborative, cloud-based, packed with features. It wasn’t just a tool; it was the future. Companies wanted Figma experts. Designers flexed their auto-layout skills like badges of honor. The industry clarified that if you weren’t using Figma, you were already behind.

So, I embraced it. I explored every new update, learned all the tricks, and mastered the design system approach. And for a while, it felt good. It was productive, efficient, and cutting-edge.

Then, reality set in.

I started noticing how much of my time was spent not designing but managing Figma itself. I wrestled with an auto-layout that didn’t behave as expected, fixed broken components that were supposed to make life easier, and tried to keep up with feature updates, not because they improved my workflow but because I needed to stay relevant.

The design system dream? That didn’t quite hold up, either. It’s a beautiful concept — one source of truth, scalable, perfectly synced. But in practice? A nightmare of dependencies, version conflicts, and unintended ripple effects. Agile teams move fast, and design systems, for all their promise, often slow things down. The ideal workflow collapses under real-world pressures, and in the end, people bypass the system to meet deadlines.

Still, nobody says this out loud.

Because Figma isn’t just a tool — it’s a status symbol. Admitting you don’t love it feels like confessing professional weakness. Companies throw around Figma jargon without really knowing why. Everyone nods when hiring managers demand FigJam workshops and auto-layout expertise, even when those features barely impact UX outcomes.

So, we play along. We pretend the complexity is worth it. We celebrate new features before questioning whether they actually help. We optimize our files to look impressive rather than functionally simple.

I realized I wasn’t just designing — I was performing design.

That’s when the burnout hit. Not just from the work itself but from the expectation to always be excited, improve, and be an expert. The pressure to stay ahead, to be seen as a Figma authority, and to never admit that sometimes is just too much.

The truth is, I don’t hate Figma. It’s a great tool, a powerful tool. But it’s not perfect. And more importantly, it’s just a tool — not a personality trait, sign of competence, or requirement to be a good designer.

I’m learning to step back and use Figma in a way that actually helps, not just because it’s the industry standard, to stop worrying about whether I know every trick, shortcut, and update, to stop performing design and start designing again.

Maybe you feel the same way. Perhaps you don’t. But if you do know, you’re not alone. And you don’t have to love Figma to be great at what you do.