Hi, my name is Kelly and I am burnt out.
Morgan Harper Nichols shared this beautiful artwork on her Instagram. In the post she included four of her pieces of art and challenged followers to select the image that spoke to them the most. In subsequent photos, the poetry was revealed on the image. It could not have been more perfect. I am a huge fan of MHN’s work - if you are not already aware of it, check it out.
The signs were all there. The subject of taking a break from work had come up at countless doctor’s appointments. For years. I knew I needed to slow down yet I always found an excuse why the time wasn’t quite right. Work was busy. The team was short-staffed. I was applying for a promotion. Someone else was on leave.
I know now that part of my problem was that I did not fully believe I was experiencing burnout. I remember our therapist recommending a book on burnout and being unable to see the link to my life. After all, I did not fit the burnout mould: I wasn’t in a toxic work environment. I did not feel stuck in a dead-end job. My boss wasn’t a nightmare. Quite the opposite: I loved my job. My work was rewarding. I was wildly proud of the team I worked on. Sure, the pace often felt unrelenting and the team I managed had doubled in size over an 18 month period, but that was the reality everywhere wasn’t it?
Yet, for the better part of three years, things in my life felt like they were unravelling. As a means of denial, I consciously chose to bury myself in work. The reality is, I needed work. It was the one place in my life that I did not feel like a failure. I was damn good at my job. I was a high achiever and was often recognized and rewarded for performance. I used work to counterbalance the anxiety and chaos I was otherwise feeling in my life.
Since work was the only place where I felt good most days, I devoted almost all of my energy to maintaining this whole charade. It left me drained at the end of the day, with nothing left in the tank for my family. I was short-fused, impatient and on edge. By Spring of this year, I was completely overwhelmed.
As I described in my LinkedIn post, when I finally realized that work — not my family — was getting the best version of me, it destroyed me. I knew I was not well, and I knew that I was going to have to step away from work, but the truth is that I felt a tremendous amount of self-stigma about it. So I kept pushing through. In the Fall, I had leave planned to be off with my husband who had to undergo open heart surgery to repair an aortic aneurysm. When I left work on September 2, I planned to take two weeks off for myself pre-surgery, and then four weeks post-surgery to help my husband during recovery. Six weeks seemed adequate for the task at hand.
I had no idea how bad my mental health had gotten. It took me two months to recognize and admit that I was experiencing burnout. It amazes me how difficult it has been for me to recognize burnout. Me: the person that has encouraged multiple people to go on leave themselves. Me: the person who has been in therapy for 15 years. Me: the person who only reads self-help.
I have been off for four months and still do not have an official return date. I am taking it slow and choosing a gentle approach to my recovery. For once, I am choosing to be more than my resilience.
