By James Pearson on
Hey. Been a minute.
So burnout has always felt like a dirty word to me. Something people say or use as an excuse to get out of a commitment, or to delay something inevitable. I’ve always been a sort of optimist, finding the silver lining or looking for the bright side (yes, people found me incredibly annoying thanks to it), yet as I grew up and adulthood leaned its ugly head into my life, I slowly realised that Burnout wasn’t so much as dirty, but terrifying!
In case it wasn’t obvious, I’ve been gone for a spell. I took a ‘sabbatical’, I took some ‘me time’, I took a ‘break’. I experienced burnout. I lost my spark and needed to take a minute (which quickly turned into a year) to figure things out. Which is what you’d expect me to say, right? To come up with some reason for it? A new job? Yeah, that happened, but not the reason. Moving out of my parents’ and in with my partner? True indeed, and I’m so happy here, but that’s again not the reason. Christmas? New Year? Lack of time? Lost inspiration? No, no, no and no. I could come up with a hundred different reasons behind it, but the truth is, there isn’t one.
You see, burnout doesn’t arrive on your doorstep like Harry Potter did to the Dursleys. And it’s definitely not a masked villain of the week from Scooby Doo, who scares you from behind every door and chases you down endless corridors. No, burnout is sneakier because it doesn’t need a reason. It’s the slow, gradual wave of excuses like ‘I’ll do it tomorrow’, or ‘I’ll get to it when I have time’. The constant dread of opening up your laptop and actually putting your inner thoughts down, and the way something you once loved, and couldn’t wait to start, slowly begins to feel like a group project you were forced into because you stupidly took a ‘sick day off’. It comes out of nowhere without any warning, and if you’re like me, it lingers in your insecurities and begins to seep into every aspect of your life. It’s terrifying.
But why? What’s so scary about just needing to take a break from something? That’s just the thing, it’s not a break. It’s a never-ending pause on the thing that makes you well, you. A betrayal of what is most sacred. And it’s completely out of your control. Mostly. (I’ll get to that.) As if you’ve somehow failed the old version of yourself that would drive everyone else in your life crazy over the never-ending chit chat about the person you were gonna become once you took it all seriously.
Like I said, burnout didn’t hit me all at once. It was slow, gradually. And before I knew it, I was so deep in that I didn’t even realise what had happened. (Ironically, it’s much like the process of joining hospitality. I joke… Kinda, but that’s a whole other article.) But if I had to break it down, it would be into four easy steps.
Losing the spark:
Nothing thrilled me enough. I mean, there was plenty to write about. I have endless Google Docs of half-written articles or concepts for videos or podcasts that I was so excited to produce! TV shows and movies, I would claim reignited my love for journalism, yet every time I sat down to write, the next step began.
Avoiding the work:
Words are hard! Ok no, that’s a little dramatic, but it’s the real gist of the situation. Finding the words to type can be hard. Even typing this now, I feel the urge to close my laptop and start playing Planet Zoo (I’m a nerd, bite me!) just to avoid it. Which then leads to point three.
Letting the guilt in:
Guilty about all the money my parents spent to help get me through four years at university. All the support and love my partner gave me whenever I got down about my abilities. Or the fact that I’d set my eyes on a goal that I was leaving to die on the side of the road because ‘I can’t be asked.’ It’s awful, and it eats away inside until finally you begin to…
Compare yourself to literally everyone:
Your partner who is juggling a full-time job and a freelance business. Your best friend who is working his way up the corporate ladder and into management before you. One of your closest friends who is still in school and getting their work published. Or even people you don’t even talk to anymore, but who are doing the job you would kill for! Be it people you are close to. Or even people you can’t stand, you can’t help but compare yourself to them. Putting yourself down and bringing your creative control to a halt, and feeling even worse in the process because most of those people are people you love and cherish. You don’t wanna be hateful and jealous, but unfortunately you can’t help it. Because that’s what burnout does.
Combined these four stages can result in the death of joy. A bit morbid, I know, but it’s true. You see, burnout makes you forget that the thing that brings you joy isn’t infinite. It’s not finite either. It’s renewable. And sometimes things that are renewable can slow down, the energy going in doesn’t always equal the energy going out, especially when you’re juggling work, life, the weekly shop, and the never-ending dread of ‘am I still a journalist if I haven’t written anything in a while?’ Ok, maybe that last one is only relevant to me, but still. Joy needs to recuperate just as much as you do. And just because you need to recharge, it doesn’t mean you’ve lost it.
So here’s the thing. Through forcing myself to open up that laptop, and start putting my words down despite how cringe it feels, or how tempting it is to ask an AI chatbot for help. (Easy way outs are always appealing after all.) I’ve come to realise that Burnout isn’t the closing chapter to a novel, it’s simply the start of the long-awaited sequel! A sign that you’ve taken the time, and the coming plot is going to be amazing! But what got me there? Was it a sudden flash of inspiration? A sign from God? (No, but that would have been an out-of-pocket Segway, huh?). Or me just finally kicking into gear? No. Well not quite, there was a kick involved, but it wasn’t from me. It was from my partner, and it was up my ass. And yes, it’s as embarrassing as it sounds.
As humans, we avoid our own faults like the plague. No one likes to admit they were wrong, and we definitely hate admitting when we aren’t good enough. But I think our worst trait is never being able to see our true potential. That’s where our partners come in, or at least mine does. Now, don’t get me wrong, this wasn’t as simple as ‘get off your ass and do something moment’. It took countless months of me going, ‘I’ll get to it’ and ‘I know I said that last time, but I’ll do it this time I promise.’ With very little movement from me. Which then led to countless more months of him giving me that look. That knowing look, that truly brought shame to my soul. Yet he never stopped. A soft push here, a gentle nudge there. A reminder of how good I am, a reminder of how shit I can be, and the brutal honesty of how disappointed he is, but also of how amazing I can be. Even now as I rewrite this, he’s honest. And yeah, it annoys me and hurts from time to time, but he’s the reason I got out of my rut. He’s my rock. And they do say, to stop a balloon from drifting off and getting lost, you always need a rock to ground you. (And sometimes that rock comes with a bribe to force you to start typing, but we all have our own methods.)
So I got out, thanks to the help of another. But what did I learn? Simply. That burnout didn’t mean I’d lost my spark, my joy. It meant I’d lost my balance. We always talk about getting a work-life balance, but how many of us actually practise it? Put it into action? Because it is harder than we think, and that’s really what leads to Burnout. But circling back to where this began, burnout isn’t a ‘Dirty’ word. In fact if anything, Burnout can be a good thing. It can give you exactly what you need. Perspective. Reminding you that sometimes all joy needs is time. Time to recuperate, time to energise and time to grow. You can’t force a tree to fruit, and you can’t force inspiration to sprout of fin air. You just need time, a bit of love (and for some, a copious amount of alcohol. Jokes… but a cocktail or two can help.)
And honestly? You’ll feel better for it. I know I do. Yeah, I’ll happily admit I wish it didn’t take almost twelve whole months to find myself again, but I wouldn’t change it. burnout isn’t just about one thing. It’s your whole life. James this time last year, was a very different person. With a drastically different life. I won’t know if not having my Burnout would have changed that, but I don’t wanna waste a second thinking about if it could have. I’m better now, happier, driven, and far more willing to write the first draft, even if it looks like it was written by a drunk Raccoon in his dumpster palace.
So take it from me, if you are feeling burntout, or like you need to take a breather, do it. Be damned what others think.
Hit pause on your life.
Restart at a fresh point.
Or simply take the long way round and enjoy the ride. You have all the time in the world. (Unless it’s a Uni assignment, take it from someone who barely scraped by with a pass, do not leave that to the last minute! Burnout be damned!)
And when you do come back? Well, that’s the best part. Perspective changes a lot you see. And nothing feels better than coming back to the thing that brings you joy after a break. Nothing. Trust me on that. Things won’t just be in focus again; they’ll feel new and vibrant, but most importantly they won’t be terrifying anymore.
So yeah, I went through a pause, a break, an ‘unintentional sabbatical.’ I had burnout. And it felt dirty, and terrifying and like I was lost, but I found my way again. And I wouldn’t have changed a thing. Well, maybe I’d have listened to my partner sooner. (But don’t tell him that!)