When burnout becomes your reality
Taking tiny troll steps forward to hear the birds sing again
Feeling exhausted by the modern working world, and all the demands that come with being seen as successful in your career, isn’t a new thing, but it’s only in recent years that more of us have been naming it, and accepting that we are human beings, not robots. And that this exhaustion we feel as a result of work is more than being just a bit tired.
As I write this, my cat is curled up at my feet, having not left my side for most of the week. She knows. Cat’s intuition is always right, and they often sense my feelings before I recognise them myself. I should definitely listen to the cats more.
Yesterday, I had to take the rest of the day off work. I sent a message to explain that I’m not coping, and I’m fortunate that this was understood. It was suggested that I took time off to have some mental rest, which I did do. This time, although just an afternoon, gave me space to think, and recognise that what I am currently experiencing is probably burnout. And as many of us will go through this at some point in our lives and careers, especially neurodivergent folk and those with tricky mental health histories, I’d like to talk about it.
The pressure to keep going
The pressure to keep going, to continue with your next achievement, and to aim for success is deep rooted long before we even set foot in a workplace for the first time. It begins in the first few years of life, with this pressure we all feel stemming from the education system.
Since school we have been conditioned to work hard, we are taught to keep going and sacrifice our social life for extra revision at weekends. There’s revision classes after the school day ends, and our worth is measured by grades on a page. Prize givings are common to reward the highest achieving young people. We are judged by how much work we put in.
When we enter the workplace, this ethos is now on steroids. Our productivity is judged by the KPIs we complete and how committed we are to organisational values. Long hours are the way to progress in your career, sending emails out of hours demonstrates drive and work ethic and is not a sign of an overworked employee. If you are not feeling exhausted at the end of a working day, you have not worked hard enough. Early signs of burnout masquerade as ambition, and we are expected to just keep on going if we want to do well.
The lead up
On Thursday I went to a tune session as I do every Thursday, and as I sat there playing my fiddle, I felt completely overcome with exhaustion, sadness and disassociation. I was miles away as I held back tears and went through everything in my head that had lead up to this moment. Yet, I was in one of my happy places, where I feel safe and cared for, but still felt this way. Then on Friday I couldn’t focus on anything at work, things had become too much and I needed some time. “I’m so drained, I don’t think I’m coping,” I said.
This feeling hasn’t crept in over night, I didn't suddenly wake up and feel this exhausted. It has slowly built up over months and even years, to a stage where it now feels unmanageable unless I do something about it, and maintaining a healthy status quo of work tasks is like a mountain I am unable to climb. When I began my career I quickly became aware that because of my neurodivergence, the working world would be more challenging for me to navigate and find my place in, where I could feel comfortable. For years I worked several sessional youth work jobs and short-term agency work, I never felt secure at work and these zero hour contracts meant I had no rights. I found this out the hard way when I was suddenly told that I wasn't needed anymore for some work one summer. When I took this to my union, I realised that they hadn’t done anything illegal. My zero hour contract meant that they weren’t under any obligation to offer me work. This uncertainty continued, as another youth organisation took sessions away from me because I complained about being physically threatened. It was easier for them to remove me from the situation, and take away work, (disguising this as ‘for my safety’) than deal with my complaint.
More recently I was made redundant from a job I thought would be my certainty, and after being unemployed for a year, I am now currently going through a second redundancy process. Experiencing this twice in two years is a lot. Being made redundant just short of two years meant I wasn’t entitled to redundancy pay, and so was forced to apply for jobs when I was still processing the loss of a job, colleagues and routine. I now have more uncertainty ahead as I go through another period of being ‘at risk of redundancy’, news that I learned just two months into starting a new job, and I’m still not yet out of my probation period. Despite this unsettling news, in many ways we must carry on as normal, there are still deliverables and deadlines to meet. The workload has increased, and we are expected to respond to the needs of partners. We attend meetings with little substance about our current situation, to be told as yet “no decisions have been made.” Responses to our questions are in management speak, full of jargon and business references, that feel impersonal and detached from the reality we are all facing. We must unpick a lot of waffle to get to the detail. When concerns are raised about workloads, a new project management tool is introduced. We’re told we must continue “business as usual” despite knowing that what we are all currently going through is far from usual.
There has been enough mental health campaigns and people sharing their stories for us all to know that putting on a front can be detrimental to our health, and never ends well. It’s always about responding to the needs of the business, these business needs are often above personal needs. Redundancies are a business decision, flexible working requests and compressed hours are too; it is all about keeping the business happy. But what about keeping employees happy? Avoiding high staff turnover, and people taking time off for mental health? When do we matter? The very people who make your deliverables possible. You can say that you put people at the centre and value inclusion, but what really matters is how you show this in practice, otherwise your words have no meaning. Action gives your words the meaning we need to see. The sad reality is that most managers and senior leaders won’t put people ahead of the business needs, because that’s not how business works, and it has been this way for a long time, when the business is always prioritised. This is often at the expense of mental health.
But how are you really?
When I worked for a mental health charity, people would ask how I am, and expect an honest response. Saying “I’m fine” often means that secretly we are very much far from fine. One of the campaigns was the ask twice campaign, when quite simply, you were encouraged to ask twice when asking “how are you?” The idea being that on the second time you will get an honest answer, as taking time to ask again demonstrates care, and shows you aren’t just filling time as you would when mentioning the weather. Although, wouldn’t it be great if we talked about mental health as much as we do about the weather? I’ve since tried to model some of this thinking, sharing honestly how I am feeling (although possibly oversharing too), and I’ve always found that I’ve felt so much better when the space has allowed me to speak openly. Hence why I write about big feelings so much.
My burnout has been creeping in over time. I’ve been slowly losing a purpose, knowing that the future I once imagined in an organisation now isn’t there anymore. Burnout is knowing that my hard work isn’t for my own development or progression, but to meet organisational goals and this doesn’t sit well with me. Feeling this way is incredibly detrimental to my wellbeing and sense of self. I have began to realise that the modern workplace as we all know it, isn’t going to support me to grow. It isn’t going to hold me up, provide the stability I crave or offer a clear path to my future. There is huge forest in the way, I can’t see a way forward with all the leaves, the birds have stopped singing and the clouds are low. This is how burnout feels for me.
My whole nervous system is running on the little fuel I have left. This feeling of extreme exhaustion affects all of me and my brain has had enough. I feel drained. Emotional. I just need constant reassurance. I need to feel care. I want to know that there is a way through this.
This type of exhaustion is different to anything I have ever felt before. It’s more than just feeling tired. My whole body has been overworked, and I have no more emotional energy left to give. I know that now I must focus on myself. To feel well again and find spaces to be me.
As I’m only at the beginning of this new reality, one thing I know is, that burnout can affect any of us, at anytime. It isn’t reserved for those at the top of organisations or people working in high pressured crisis environments. Burnout is about our constant need to show up and to please others, but often beyond our limits, beyond our bodies request to pause and rest. We push through because this is what we are conditioned to do, yet doing the opposite and taking time out to find your tiny pockets of joy and spaces that nourish your brain is really what we need to do.
Until we re-design the systems that put more people into states of burnout, this cycle will just continue. We will continue to be overworked (and often underpaid) with little recognition of the impact on our brain and body.
That’s the real work we must do. Change the systems we operate in, our understanding of a good work ethic and what really matters, so we can find harmony, peace and calm, both at work and home.
Maybe then the birds will begin to sing again.
If you’ve read this far, thank you! And if you’d like to support me over the next few months, there are a few ways you can:
Friends: Make sure I get out of the house, and out of bed. Encourage me to continue doing things that bring me joy.
Everyone else:
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