The Burn
For a long time, I’ve felt that I might have a bit of the old burnout… but it’s a much-used term that’s often nebulously defined, and the literature on what to do about it if you do happen to have it is even worse, from my perspective at least. I want a plan. I want actionable dot points and definitive statements… burnout isn’t like that, though. So for a long time it was ‘well, yeah, maybe? I have a lot on.’
I didn’t just have a lot on.
I was leveraged to the hilt, with almost every waking moment filled with concern about things over which I had little to no control. My focus was spent, I was unskilling at a tremendous rate and frustrated with myself beyond measure. Why couldn’t I do things that had been easy before? Why was everything so difficult? Why couldn’t I find any joy in anything?
In desperation
In desperation, I quit everything. Backed out of every obligation outside of my immediate family. It didn’t mean I went back to zero. I have two neurodiverse kids, one with a chronic pain condition, plus my chronic pain condition and… you get the idea. But I carved out the things that I had come to think of as my defining features. Work was my personality… and I put it all down.
This didn’t go all that well. I felt worthless, a failure, disappointed. It also wasn’t instant; I had too much knowledge in my head and was too deeply ingrained in my job to just drop it and disappear… that had its own level of stress involved. But progress was being made, and surely that was good, right?
The spark of excitement
One Tuesday evening, I was sitting on my couch working on some stuff for the D&D game I run. One of the players had given me some cool backstory, and I was plotting and planning how to draw it all out at the table when I felt something.
Anxiety?
No, no, I’m used to anxiety, and this was different, but it was an almost physical sensation that I had trouble identifying. God help me, I was excited. I wanted it to be Friday so I could run this table for my friends. I actively wanted it! And it was awful.
Not the excitement, that was kinda nice, but the realisation that I hadn’t felt excited about anything in the better part of a decade. Excitement was so foreign that I was confused by it for a while. It didn’t last long, maybe half an hour and then I was back to normal, and by normal, I’ve come to understand, I mean numb.
I’ve felt that excitement a time or two since then, usually about D&D, actually, but it’s still rare, and sometimes it blind sides me so badly I end up anxious about it. This is a stupid mental space to inhabit. I’m so unused to excitement that it freaks me out.
Lighting a fire under the burnout
One of the truisms bandied about a lot is that you can’t ‘work your way out of burnout.’ This irks me; it’s irksome.
Without plans and KPIs and all that stuff, how do I know if I’m winning?
The point seems to be that this isn’t a race or a battle; it’s not something to win. You don’t earn or win the right to mental health in this particular context… It’s more like trying to peel off layers. Like a well-meaning grandma piled on the jumpers on a spring morning so you don’t catch a chill, but now you can barely move, and you certainly can’t function properly. Nanna didn’t mean anything by it, but her good intentions are just another layer, making it difficult for you to move.
Every layer you strip off is another little frown of disapproval from grandma, because you’ll catch your death (or be unemployed or unsuccessful, whatever), but it’s also easier movement, the ability to feel the real temperature around you and a lifting of weight. It’s a slow process, because nanna (that’s societal pressure, in case you hadn’t caught it) is fighting you the whole way. You’ll catch your death. You’ll get cold! You’ll lose your career progression! Sometimes she even tried to put a jacket back on you! She’s tenacious.
Things I like
I really like storytelling. Connecting people through this empathetic action of experiencing shared dreaming. When I was younger, because I didn’t know there were other options, I thought I wanted to write novels or scripts, because that was how stories were shared. These days, there are other things on the table (see what I did there?). Things that provide the kind of connection and feedback I’ve always craved.
There’s nothing like looking into my friend’s wide eyes as she grapples with the choice between losing her memory to erase her pain with a goddess who doesn’t care about her, or the long, hard road to hidden truths supported by a deity who never tells her what to do and promises only to do his best for her. I think she made the right choice, but it wasn’t about what I think the right choice was. It’s about having the opportunity to look such decisions in the face, play them out and consider them, in the safety of the table and supported at all times by your party.
Seriously, everyone should play tabletop role-playing games.
So am I not burned out anymore?
Um… no. No, I’m still burned out as hell. Some literature suggests it can take two plus years to come out of really intense burnout, and I don’t know exactly how such things are measured, but ‘forgetting what excitement feels like’ seems pretty bad. So I’m keeping my expectations under control and trying to roll with it.
I am profoundly privileged in that my family and I can cope with my not being employed for a while. Our mortgage is getting paid, we’re eating, and the bills are being dealt with.
Part of my ‘recovery’ activities includes gardening, and I’m making sure that some time is being spent on edible plants in my yard, which feels nice. I’ve also taken up mending and DIY troubleshooting around the house to give myself something to accomplish and simultaneously support our household while I’m not working.
The truth is, I’m very bad at recovering. I see job ads and think ‘I could just get that’, or think up projects that will demand attention and energy and demand emotional investment (because I emotionally invest in everything)… and I have to force myself to put those things aside. It’s not my job to do those things right now. It’s my job to learn how to be here and FEEL stuff with my family.