‘You’re burnt out’.
The doctor barely looked up from his computer as he updated his notes.
Unspoken rage coursed through me.
Burn out isn’t a diagnosis.
Burnout feels like a weakness and I felt like it was my fault already.
Rage at him was quickly followed by shame.
How had I got here?
I’d got my degree while working and raising two children, qualified as a teacher just after turning 30. I felt invincible…for a while.
But over the next decade my old friend – the ‘thought’ returned. Perhaps you have one too. Mine tells me I’m not good enough. Yours may say something different.
That thought just got louder …and louder
The marking, the planning, the assessments, the targets. ‘If I just work harder…everyone else seems to cope…why can’t I?’
I took pride in never taking a day off.
And would never, ever ‘admit’ to colleagues how close to breaking point I was feeling.
A few hours on a Friday evening became the only time I could really switch off. By Saturday afternoon, my breathing got shallower. On Sundays there were hidden tears. And at work? I found myself hiding in a stock cupboard while a panic attack passed.
Still I kept going. Until I didn’t.
Just before the start of a new term, a seizure, out of the blue, stopped me in my tracks…literally.
There were tests…epilepsy…probably stress related…treatment.
And that was how I got there on the chair in front of the GP…a broken mess.
A year later I left my teaching post.
What looked like an ending was actually the beginning of something else.
I still think of myself as a teacher because the spark of joy that teaching brings doesn’t ever completely disappear. It just got drowned out for a while by the other stuff. I guess some of my work now as a counsellor is about helping people to learn for themselves new ways of thinking, feeling and being.
Does any of this sound familiar? What should you be looking out for? In you, in the people you care about?
Signs of burnout
Lack of fulfilment
Feeling depleted
Trouble with sleep patterns
Feeling overwhelmed and cynical
Sunday night ‘blues’ (adjust according to your work pattern)
Irritability
Headaches and muscle tension
If you are a teacher, nurse, carer, administrator, campaigner, farmer, vicar, politician, dog groomer, designer, artist, accountant (not an exhaustive list), reading this with any sense of recognition, here are some steps you can take. Don’t try all of them straight away – this is not another ‘to do list’ for you to complete. These are gentle suggestions, just try one for a week and see what happens.
Take care of your body
Eat a healthy balanced diet
Have a routine health check with your GP and find out if you need supplements (e.g. iron)
Find a way of relaxing that suits you (yoga isn’t for everyone, for me it’s knitting).
Try to get outdoors for at least a few minutes a day.
Work on your sleep – have a bedtime routine.
Switch off devices for a while each day.
Move your body.
Other stuff
Socialise with non – work people
Incorporate self care into your day; a cup of hot chocolate, an episode of your favourite box set, reading your book in the bath.
Keep a journal; track your mood, write down things you are thankful for.
Talk…to a supportive, friend, family member, counsellor.
Work on your boundaries, what can you say no to?
Harder stuff
Resist taking work home or working outside your time boundaries if you work from home.
Talk to a colleague…or your boss.
Use sick leave and/or take a mental health day (or more)
Consider other job options. That doesn’t have to be a new job, it may be reducing your hours or doing a different role.
I wish I had recognised that voice sooner, the one that tells me I’m never good enough. I wish I hadn’t waited so long to understand why it does that, where it comes from and that it tells lies.
Counselling gave me space to be heard, without judgement. It gave me an understanding of why I thought and felt the way I did. I learned tools to help me move forward.
There’s a lot I wish I had know sooner and perhaps things might have been different, but if you are in that place right now…know this…it’s not your fault. Help is out there.
Comments 1
Very aptly described Sheridan. This creeps up on you over time if you don’t stop and take stock. I can relate to all of this from a career in the NHS. Work loads and responsibilities getting bigger, staff leaving and not replaced. Trying to continue with business as usual.
For me seeing colleagues dying of stress related conditions before reaching 60 put it all into perspective. No retirement for them. In my view no job is worth this and it was time to change. A breakdown force’s you to reflect and make new choices. If you keep on doing what you’re doing, nothing will change.
For me I chose to take early retirement at 57 and will retrain to be a pool life guard and swimming teacher. This is something I enjoy and feel all children should learn to swim.
I will cut my cloth to live on a lesser pension but its a small price to maintain health and sanity.