‘I can’t do it. I’ve got nothing left.’
It was early February. I was sitting in my cubicle at work, thinking ahead to yet another week packed with back-to-back-to-back meetings that would suck whatever fumes remained in my interpersonal gas tank, and the relentless torrent of emails that would scream for my attention, and the countless decisions that required focus and a high degree of executive function – and my brain, after over two years of sprinting this marathon, yelled loud enough to finally grab my attention. “No more!”
Three days later I started what would become a 3 month medical leave from work. I was burnt out.
Work your fingers to the bone and what do you get? Bony fingers.
Going cold turkey from the two jobs I had been doing for over 2 years was hard, good, restful, weird, and many other things. Layers of emotion and insight revealed themselves over the course of my leave.
Am I better now? Maybe. But definitely not healthy. I do have a better sense of the things that led to my burnout – things both internal and external. And I’m testing a few strategies to help me manage now that I’m back to work – only one job, and only half-time for now.
My return to work has been interesting, though largely uneventful. Shifting roles and responsibilities. Only working half time. Even half time work takes a lot out of me. How do I explain to others – colleagues, friends, family – the choices I have to make to manage this invisible illness? Choices that from the outside may seem inexplicable.
I struggle with the indefinite nature of healing. With a broken bone, you have a pretty good idea of the healing process and how long it will take. Not so with burnout. When I will be ‘back to normal?’ I don’t know. Maybe in 6 months. Maybe 3 years. Maybe never. This ambiguity is hard for me. It’s hard for my ego, my sense of identity, my career planning, and so much more.
Bony fingers, indeed.
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