Coming to Terms With My Burnout

It's time to admit to myself that I'm not ok, and need to do something about it.

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

Cynicism? Check.

Irritability? Affirmative.

Exhaustion? Excessive.

Depression? Duh.

Feelings of uselessness? Unfortunately.

Insomnia? Indeed.

Difficulty concentrating? Can confirm.

Frequent headaches? Far too often.

Substance abuse? Absolutely.

Upset stomach? Undeniable.

Road rage? Roger that.

Struggling to work? Surely.

Often overwhelmed? Of course.

Lack of focus? Wait, what am I talking about?

While the list is far from exhaustive, these symptoms can be spotted in every article I’ve read regarding burnout. What is burnout? I don’t really know. Maybe it’s a state of exhaustion, maybe it’s a medical condition, maybe it’s an inevitable symptom of modern life. In any case, there’s no denying it; I’m burnt out, and it’s time to both examine why and decide what to do about it. But first, let’s talk about writing.

With the exception of a quick note/sign of life at the end of August, I haven’t posted on Substack since mid-July. This is a familiar and repeated pattern of mine; I’ll deep dive into a blog or other writing project, I’ll use it as an outlet and come to rely on it to sort through my thoughts and feelings, and I’ll invariably neglect it as life burns through my ever diminishing reservoir of resources. It’s not the case that I’ve run out of stories to write, but as I barely manage to overcome the overwhelm of existence, sitting down to write seems like an impossibility. The words don’t come. The time isn’t there. I invariably give up. 

I want to break this pattern, but in order to do so I need to examine where my resources are going. And sadly, it would appear that many, too many, of my resources are devoted to little more than just surviving. If the increasing number of tents pitched on city sidewalks is any indication, Vancouver’s unaffordability has reached a crisis state. With the average monthly rent of a one-bedroom apartment reaching the same amount of money I make two months, I, like many, have found myself in substandard housing with no real hope of bettering my circumstances. This of course makes it difficult, if not impossible, to properly take care of myself, ensure I’m eating well, etc.

Working to afford housing has proven to be every bit as much a part of the problem as the housing itself. Though my choice may have been ill-advised, I chose self-employment over a more traditional/stable job. Often celebrated as “grind” or “hustle” culture, the reality of self-employment is that I’m never out of “business mode.” There’s always something that needs to get done, and it’s all-consuming, never allowing my mind a moment of rest. Making matters worse, I chose to live through my craft (or art, or whatever you want to call it). Unless they’re masters of self-promotion, which I most definitely am not, craftspeople and artists seldom make a living from their work. So to make ends meet, I always have additional work on the go, occasionally working as many as three jobs at once. 

Were the full-time and a half work not enough, I also spend much of my time volunteering in the community. Having finally found a community in which I feel I belong, I do everything I can to support it. Having never had any real boundaries, that translates to a lot. Oh, and I guess there’s still the ongoing depression, the ongoing processing of recent traumatic events, the insomnia, the chronic physical pain, yada yada… Well. Shit. I think I understand why I’m burnt out. Now what?

For starters, I have to make some acknowledgments. I have to acknowledge that I’m struggling, and I have to acknowledge that I need help. I have to acknowledge how much the lack of sleep, chronic physical pain, and stress are affecting me. I have to acknowledge that the work I’ve chosen no longer brings me joy, and has long since stopped paying the bills. I have to acknowledge that Vancouver, my home of five years, where I’ve worked so hard to build a community, may no longer be affordable/at all possible to survive in. I have to acknowledge that I take on too much, and often do so at the expense of self-care. It’s time to make some changes.

First of those changes; I’m back on meds, though not very happy about it. While I see the meds as a band-aid, sometimes a band-aid is what it takes to stop the bleeding so you can heal. I’m also back in counseling after a recent traumatic event, the details of which I’m not ready to share, and have taken two weeks off from any and all forms of work. I’ve also taken a step back from volunteering, as I need to spend that time on self-care. In many ways, I’ve withdrawn from the world around me, but I’m hoping the break will provide an opportunity to turn inward and focus on the work to be done on the path toward healing. There’s much to do, and it may take a while.

Please join me for more Adventures in Antidepressants. As usual, I would love your support in the form of a share, comment, or subscription. Every interaction makes me feel seen, validated, and encouraged, and hopefully helps break the stigma surrounding mental health. Thank you, each and every one of you, for all the support and encouragement so far.