I am a paradox. I hate onions, but love onion rings; I drop a lot of money on skincare, but would rather die than go literally anywhere; and I am someone who likes to stay busy, but all I want to do is gaze out at the horizon absentmindedly from the moors, while clutching my premium thick pashmina at the neck for ninety-two hours straight. I’m pretty good at striking—or at least trying to strike—a balance between these things, but recently, my work-life balance has officially careened off the road, and is now upside-down in a ravine with one wheel still spinning.
Reader, I am burned out.
If you subscribe to this newsletter, I’m going to assume that you’re about as well-adjusted as I am, which is to say…not well-adjusted at all. I don’t have to worry about you; I know you know what burnout is. You are my people. Now, those of you who, like, remember to hydrate and practice mindfulness and are self-aware and recognize when you’ve reached your limit and know when to step back might—you may not experience it as often as the rest of us, or you might not remember it at all because you’re too busy remembering to actually clean your humidifier. If that’s you, let’s quickly review: burnout, according to the APA Dictionary of Psychology, is defined as “physical, emotional, or mental exhaustion, accompanied by decreased motivation, lowered performance, and negative attitudes towards oneself and others.”
More times than not, burnout is the result of overworking yourself to the point of only having room in your brain for “Tequila” by The Champs, which has, for some reason, been playing on a loop in my head ever since I broke a few days ago. I know; it doesn’t make sense, but nothing makes sense when you’re burned out because you’re operating at a very limited cognitive capacity.
Last week, I opened my computer to check my email, and found that replying to even one missive felt like a herculean effort. I struggled to string words together; I could not bother with subject-verb agreement. If I couldn’t respond with a slew of emoji, I wouldn’t respond at all. And worse, I did not even care. People needed things from me and that made me want to crawl into my tub and pull a mattress over it like I was bracing myself for a tornado. I became even more anxious than usual; everything stressed me out. I became irritable and easily annoyed. Even a ping from Stop N’ Shop asking me to take a survey was enough to send me into a rage.
That’s when I knew.
I’ve experienced burnout before, but not of this magnitude. It wasn’t like me to throw my hands up in the air and abandon the things that I needed to do, especially if there was someone on the other end, counting on me to get them done. But at the same time, it made sense: I had been going non-stop for weeks now, reaching a fever pitch the week before, handing in one thing after another. I puttered out. I realized I was of no use—to myself, or anyone else for that matter—and if I wanted to shake this off and return to my old self—who is, yes, trash standing on top of trash under a trench coat, but at least that person refuses to let anyone down because that’s their biggest fear!!!!!!!—I had to take a step back and take a break.
Something I have found that helps me alleviate burnout is mixing things up, which, for the anxious, can be unsettling. Now, I’m not proposing doing something bonkers, like bungee-jumping off a skyscraper or exploring a new hobby. It’s me, after all. (My best friend texted me a photo of them braiding a tapestry the other day, and I was like, “Why r u doing that, lol, go drink some Sprite and take a nap.”) But what I did do was pack a bag and visit my parents in New Jersey for a few days and go to the shore, where I continued to listen to Renaissance on a loop. Even something as simple as feeling the breeze on my face, submerging my toes in the ocean, and just getting some sunshine felt like sweet nectar for my weary soul.
Burnout is rough, and has (unsurprisingly) become more prevalent after the COVID-19 pandemic shrouded the world in uncertainty and forced most of us to work from home, which many of us continue to do. Therefore, on top of navigating a world for which there is no blueprint, we also have a harder time setting healthy boundaries between our personal and professional lives. Sometimes work spills over from the corner of your home that you designate as your work space, and the next thing you know, you’re putting out another fire after your phone pings with an urgent email while you’re trying to watch Love Island and gorge on Korean BBQ Kettle chips.
And burnout can lead to things beyond stress, fatigue, and irritability. According to Mayo Clinic, if unchecked, it can lead to the abuse of drugs and/or alcohol, the development of chronic health issues like heart disease and diabetes, and lead to vulnerability to other illnesses. It’s not something to take lightly. The last thing you want to do is ignore it and leave it unaddressed.
I still feel burned out. My mom had to ask me the same question approximately fifty-eight times before I could give an answer. My dad raised the thermostat up by one degree, and I almost burned the house down. But I’ve clocked this behavior, and I’m taking the necessary steps (necessary steps= porn, crying, processed foods, sometimes all at once!) to recover from burnout.
Ironically, the thing that has led me to burnout—my work, which is writing—is helping bring me out of it. By writing about it, I’m able to parse through my feelings of anxiety, frustration, irritability, and everything else in between, by scraping the gunk from my brain like a facialist performing an extraction on a face. I’ve also been letting myself sleep in, read for fun, and do things that bring me joy, even if it’s just a long drive to nowhere in particular.
Burnout can be triggered for different reasons, and how we choose to cope should be different, too. As long as how one chooses to seek respite is not harmful to themselves or the people around them, it holds merit. Above all, don’t ignore the signs; know your limits and respect them. Go drink some Sprite and take a nap!
Credits
Cover art by: James Jeffers
Editorial assistant: Jesse Adele
You can follow my other unhinged missives by following me on Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook. My debut memoir, Born to Be Public, is out now.