Burnout
Burnout is a state of emotional, physical and mental exhaustion caused by excessive and prolonged stress. Burnout in the course of employment can make one feel emotionally drained and unable to function in the context of work and other aspects of life. Burnout can reduce productivity and can lower your motivation and cause you to feel helpless, hopeless and resentful. (Source: CAMH | Career Burnout)
Part of the reason why I am taking my six-month Leave of Absence (or sabbatical), in addition to wanting to travel the world and get in touch with the beautiful things on this planet, is because I am burnt out.
Burnout has become a buzzword, especially in the pandemic-era, but just because more people have heard of the concept, doesn’t mean that there is any more sophisticated infrastructure in place to support those experiencing it.
If you Google the word “burnout” you’ll find a lot of definitions that have some combination of words like “chronic stress”, “hopelessness”, and “inability to function”. Even as I write this, even as someone who has embraced the label for my particular situation, I cannot help but cringe a bit at those characterizations of burnout. Those definitions don’t feel like me. I don’t think I was chronically stressed. I didn’t feel helpless. My performance hadn’t suffered, and I was functioning just fine. It’s just that I was on the cusp.
I was on the cusp of exhaustion, cynicism, and feeling dissatisfied with my work-life.
There are a lot of factors that influenced that feeling, not least of which has been the blur of my “work” and “life” boundaries over the past 2.5 years, since I have been working remotely (from home).
I am incredibly grateful to have the opportunity to take this sabbatical. I have been met with so much support, from my colleagues, to my managers and leadership teams, to my friends and family. However, it hasn’t been completely carefree, “good vibes only”-energy that has motivated me to take this time off for myself. Yes, I am trying my best to frame this as an opportunity for growth and exploration. Yes, I am the kind of person who is relentlessly optimistic (because I think it’s intellectually lazy to be habitually pessimistic). Yes, I have lots of goals that I want to work on during this time (to make even my “time off” productive!), but I also have to remind myself why I needed this break.
The truth is that I am tired. Oh my goodness, I am so tired! Physically and intellectually. I have been sleeping so much — over 12 hours a night — during these last few days, since my sabbatical started. I am also so mentally tired. I’d even concede to the use of the word “exhausted” here.
I have had a pattern, or a habit, of using times of trauma to make myself better, which I have been very successful at doing. (This started back when I was 14 years old, when I went from being very popular to the most-hated person in my grade. It is funny how there’s such a fine line there between being aspirational and despised, but that’s a story for another day.) So, following in the tradition that I have created for myself, like a Phoenix rising from the ashes, I used the pandemic to transform myself into the best version of me.
Oh, and transform I did — inside and out! I started therapy! I lost a bunch of weight! I started cooking and developing a healthier relationship with food! I got Invisalign! I started laser hair removal! I started working out (thank you Grow With Jo)! I have been journaling, reading books, and expressing my creativity in lots of ways (sketching, singing, and exercising)! I have strengthened my friendships and relationships with family! All in all, I am incredibly impressed with all that I have been able to achieve. And, to top it off, I got promoted during this time, did a rotational role in another part of the company, got elected into a national leadership role as Chair of the Women’s Council, and got more than one raise! Whew! That’s right! Go Samaa!
I will admit that at the beginning of the pandemic (March-April 2020) I was at the lowest point, emotionally, that I had ever been in my life. My anxiety (and Panic Disorder) was at an all-time high. I felt completely lost. I literally described that time as one of mourning, which it was, as I was truly mourning the loss of life as I knew it.
My sister jokingly used to describe me as someone who “lived in the future”, and I was rewarded for my foresight and strategic-thinking skills, academically, professionally, and personally (especially as it pertained to my “maturity”.) I was always thinking about the next big thing in my life. The next step in my career, the next place to visit, the next place to live, the next thing to acquire. It was a lot, but it was also something that I knew how to do really well, and it definitely helped me to achieve as much as I had/have.
So when everything came crashing to a halt as it did in March 2020, so did all of this momentum that I had (ever-growing) behind me. I was 28 when the pandemic started, and, like most successful people, especially women, I had a list of specific goals to achieve by the time I turned 30. (Forbes can really f*** off for introducing those horrible “30 under 30” lists into our culture.) Although life “began” again, those specific time-bound milestones that I was working towards were completely derailed, and that was hard. I really struggled with understanding who I was once all of the accolades were no longer valuable or those next big achievements were…irrelevant. I had to accept that this entire system of success that I had been indoctrinated into, and by which I measured so much of my own worth, could not (and would not) be used to define me anymore.
It was hard to make that mindset shift. I don’t want to underplay it. But it was necessary, and it was worth it.
So, I decided, okay, I won’t live in the future anymore — there’s no safety in that. I had been taught to value the long-lasting, more fruitful rewards brought about by delayed gratification, and prided myself on my ability to play the long-game of success, but what if the rewards of all of that waiting and planning and striving were no longer available for me to access? It’s hard to let go of a worldview that served me well, but was not relevant or reliable anymore. I was now able to see that the prosperity that I had been promised (and, to be fair, previously attained) were built on a foundation that could be so unceremoniously stripped away.
So, I tried to live in the present. And I did a pretty good job of it too. I started to realize, subconsciously, that the only assurances we have are what we are currently experiencing. If that’s true, then how does that change how I behave and think? Well, it could mean that everything is meaningless, because nihilism. Equally, it could mean that everything is meaningful, because here we are, experiencing it, with no guarantees of anything else!
Life is only as meaningful as we make it, and I’ve decided to make my time on this planet as significant as I can. Not by any external standards — although it’s very kind if other people feel like my existence is meaningful/significant too — but by my own.
With that (re)new(ed) attitude, I decided to throw myself into making my life meaningful, which included throwing myself into work. I smugly, but unconsciously, thought “You guys can fall apart, but I’m not going to.” And I didn’t. I stayed ambitious. I stayed creative. I found new ways to challenge myself and set new goals (and systems) for myself.
Two and a half years later, I am frustrated. For quite a few reasons, but one of them is that it seems like I just took on all of everyone else’s slack. I don’t mean to be unfair, but that’s how it feels. My plan seems to have backfired. Just because I didn’t fall apart didn’t mean I was expecting to hold everyone else and their responsibilities together. And, despite all of that extra work, I am frustrated that I wasn’t able to make the impact that I was hoping to. After all this rebuilding and reframing, did I simply just replace an old set of standards and constraints for myself, with a bunch of new ones?
Like I said, I feel exhausted.
I had COVID last week, and my workout routine that I have been so diligently keeping up with for the past 6 months has slipped a bit. It has been hard not to feel discouraged, but I am getting back into exercising again. I was texting a friend about it, and I said “IDK if I am lazy or still recovering, but I just don’t feel the energy”. She (kindly) said “Your body is going through a lot! Be compassionate to yourself!”
Yeah. She’s so right. Not just about my post-COVID exercising, but in general. My body, my brain, my spirit have been going through a lot. Whether it’s been exacerbated by factors like COVID or workplace performance, we can speculate, but that doesn’t negate the fundamental truth of it.
It’s okay to be tired. It’s okay to admit, out loud, that I am burning out. It’s okay to need rest. It’s okay to say that I am going to need periods of rest again, even after this sabbatical, and that this intentional break has made me realize that I don’t want to operate with the intensity that I was, and that my wellbeing will always be more important than everything else — including, and especially, work.
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