I’m tired. The kind of tired that no amount of sleep can fix.
I’m tired in all the ways: mentally, physically, emotionally, spiritually.
I’ve been trudging along for months. Scratch that. Years. But this past year has been especially exhausting in a myriad of ways.
Here are some of the bigger reasons I’m burnt out:
Work
I’m a psychotherapist in private practice. I love what I do and I care for my clients in the deepest of ways. I think about them, remember them, randomly conceive of things outside of session that might aid in their treatment. I work hard for them and I am honored that they share such private experiences with me.
But like any other job, especially one where you either don’t get or don’t allow yourself ample breaks, I’m vulnerable to burnout.
I’m also an entrepreneur, which comes with its own set of challenges. One challenge is not being able to clock out.
I understand there is a difference between doing all the things that you think you’re supposed to be doing and doing the things that actually need to get done. These can get muddied and I’m still trying to find the balance between the two.
The other thing is you are responsible for everything. That’s right. Everything.
Yes, any wins are mine to boast and celebrate but any setbacks, disappointments or failures are mine to own as well, and it’s easier to do the latter.
There’s no one cheering you on, acknowledging your successes or exceptional work. You have to do that for yourself. And there’s no one punishing you or giving you warnings for not getting your shit done. There’s no one critiquing you. That is, except yourself. Being an entrepreneur is a dangerous invitation for your inner-critic to come out and have unrestricted reign.
Finances
I don’t know what it is about getting older but the bills seem to multiply exponentially.
In early adulthood, I had a phone bill, a car payment, car insurance and eventually rent. Now, there’s so much crap that I can’t even keep track and my email reminders, though annoying and overwhelming, are necessary.
And the accumulating bills aren’t insignificant amounts. They include things like veterinary bills, necessary home upgrades or repairs (we live in a home built in the 1930’s), car repairs, home appliances, student loans, retainer fees, etc.
It’s a lot to manage.
Family
I have an exhausting family dynamic where some members do more than others. My particular role has been family organizer, planner, travel agent, communicator, educator, holder of emotions, advisor, and with my dad’s stroke and diabetes diagnosis, I’ve added chauffeur, personal trainer, dietitian and grocery shopper to the unending list.
I’ve also been dealing with a lot of heartache from my stepsons who are now in their 20’s and in a stage of life where taking accountability is the last thing on their mind. I have been blamed for nearly everything and it’s been difficult to shake off.
Then a member of my household, our oldest dog, underwent 2 surgeries, was diagnosed with cancer, then passed away just a few months later.
We lost a second dog 2 months after that.
Life just keeps ’em coming.
HSP
I recently reaffirmed my identification as a Highly Sensitive Person (https://hsperson.com). The Highly Sensitive Trait is found in 15–20% of the population.
Essentially, I am sensitive to different kinds of external stimuli and empathize naturally. I am also more aware of subtleties and process information at depths that are continually consuming.
Being a HSP also means that all of the reasons for burnout mentioned above have a greater impact on me than they might on a non-HSP.
Why It’s Hard to Admit
Capitalist Society
We live in a capitalist society where productivity is not only the goal but is often how our worth is measured. We find satisfaction and even purpose in being “productive.”
Those who work upwards of 40 hours per week are seen as hardworking heroes with an incomparable and admirable work ethic. Anything less than that and people often suspect that you are lazy or spoiled, even though overworking is not sustainable or healthy. Rest, recovery and downtime are deprioritized, downplayed and sometimes even seen as a luxury instead of what they really are — necessary.
With this worldview engrained in me, I have also put the pressure on myself to produce morning, noon and night. To be the best at every role I play. I demand perfection of myself and there is no room to be a tired human.
Comparison
My narrative is that others, therapists and non-therapists alike, are doing so much more than I am. Their days are fuller. They’re seeing more clients and working longer hours. They have young kids and less sleep yet still manage to work while playing parent, driver, coach, tutor, chef, housekeeper, you name it. And they’re not complaining. I almost feel like a spoiled crybaby that I feel this way. It’s a bit difficult not to feel like a failure.
Though I caution my therapy clients about comparing themselves to others, I am not immune to this comparison trap.
Upholding the Illusion
I think maybe part of me also wants to uphold the illusion of whatever successful life people think I lead. They see me on social media attending events and promoting my practice. They see my Facebook Business page and its illuminating, inspiring posts, and somehow gather that I have my shit together.
Colleagues reach out to me wanting to learn tips to help them in their own practice. They see my articles curated on Medium and make their own meaning out of it. They see me volunteering at church events and it reinforces a certain perception of me.
Admitting burnout means admitting that it’s not all rainbows and butterflies. It might mean that instead of slaying all day, I actually can’t handle juggling all the things (work, marriage, family, parents, social life, personal time). It might also mean that if I am this exhausted, I may have chosen the wrong career path, which in turn might mean that I accumulated thousands of dollars in student loan debt for no reason. To admit all this to myself is hard. To admit it to others is just plain embarrassing.
Identity
I’ve identified as a giver for so long. Before becoming a therapist, I was in the service industry for a decade. Before that, I worked in hospitals. Being of service to others has been my jam. The biggest, most central part of my identity.
Who am I if not a giver?
Or
Who am I when I am not giving?
That I’m asking these questions is scary and implies that maybe I’ve held so tightly to this identity that I’ve somehow let the other parts of me fall to the wayside.
Other guilt- and anxiety-inducing questions that come up are: How can I take a break from all my various giver roles when so many people depend on me? Are my days as a giver winding down? Is there something else I am meant to be doing? How might others respond if I shift away from this part of my identity? What else is there to do with myself? How else do I find satisfaction and purpose?
Admitting burnout propels me to sit with these uncomfortable questions AND with the fact that I’m scared of letting others down. It makes me nervous just thinking about it.
Maybe I signed up for too much and it’s unrealistic to expect myself to maintain all these selfless roles.
Work Ethic
I hate to admit that I’ve subscribed to the unhealthy and unsustainable capitalist mentality for a long time. I’ve prided myself on working since I was 16, relieving my mom of whatever personal expenses I could however minimal (school supplies, toiletries and things), buying my own car, paying my way through college and grad school.
I sacrificed and didn’t expect anything of others. I worked three jobs to get through grad school. I even worked extra hours to clean up after lazy co-workers. I didn’t announce all the additional tasks I completed. I let my work ethic speak for itself.
Does being burnt out mean I’ve lost all that? Does it mean I’m not a hard worker?
No One Talks About It
No one ever really talks about burnout, about its insidious effects. How it can diminish the quality of your work. How it can leave you depressed and unmotivated. How it can impact your relationship with your partner, with your family. How it can leave you sleep-deprived or gradually push you to drink more. How it can narrow your window of tolerance. How it can have deleterious repercussions on your physical health. How it can transform you into an irritable, resentful shadow of your former self.
What’s the point?
It’s hard to admit I’m burnt out because, like many of us, I have to keep working for financial reasons. So what’s the point? What will admitting burnout do except potentially send me further down the spiral of resistance and fatigue? Might as well keep chugging. Might as well keep those thoughts at bay.
I fear that admitting burnout is somehow synonymous with admitting defeat.
At the end of the day, who gives a rat’s ass if others are doing more or less? If I’m being honest with myself, the pressure to be like others is only exacerbating my burnout.
At the end of the day, the people that depend on me will all be okay. They are grown, functioning human beings that have the capacity to care for themselves. I need to remember this and stop catastrophizing.
At the end of the day, one of the more helpful questions to ask myself is: Does being a giver mean that I have to give in every aspect of my life?
And the answer is: Of course not. I can be selective. I can check in with myself regularly and reflect on my capacity in any given moment. I can choose to give my attention to others or I can choose to turn inward. The point being that it is a choice. And when I do give, it will be because I chose to, not because I felt forced or guilted or pressured. There will be intention.
Giving Myself Permission
I usually have to wait until my physical health reflects my exhaustion and what my gut has been telling me all along. While my current situation did take me experiencing physical symptoms to face the truth, it was still progress from the past. One time, I ended up in the ICU blind in one eye and another time I had an infection so severe that I temporarily lost the use of one of my fingers. (I recovered from both.) Thankfully, it didn’t have to get to that point.
With the nudge of my physical health and a couple colleagues/consultants, I gave myself permission to take emergency time off to focus on my health in all of its aspects: mental, physical, emotional and spiritual. I allowed myself the space to continue grieving my lost pets, to honor their memory and the sadness that sits like an immoveable rock in my chest.
I gave myself the okay to sleep and listen to the exhaustion of my body.
I let myself read things that weren’t therapy-related and I remembered ever-so-viscerally how much I used to love reading before it eventually turned into a work-related chore. I was able to get into a poetically written memoir and let my imagination free — a part of myself, along with others, that had become caged over the last few years.
I craved touching earth and soil, so I bought myself new plants and tended to my old ones. I put a lot of attention into transferring overgrown orchids into new pots, cutting away dried out stems and replenishing their environment. I did the same for my succulents, freeing their roots and gently placing them into a new home. I repeatedly scooped fists full of dirt into my hands and instantly felt the cool, healing energy of the soil cleanse and ground me, simultaneously. I allowed myself the joy of planting several times in one week.
I permitted myself to watch movies that would otherwise be too emotionally draining. I often limit myself to comedies so that I could save my emotional world for my clients. In some ways, it feels like I’m protecting myself and in other ways, it feels like I’m cheating myself out of some of the most basic parts of life — feeling and being human.
The more I read up on the Highly Sensitive Trait, I slowly start to feel more validated and less like something is wrong with me. There are actual observable data that support my intuited need to protect myself. I’m moving away from self-judgment toward grace and understanding. I am realizing this is just how it is — how I am. The sooner I can accept that, the sooner I can focus on what I need in order to thrive.
I’m hoping that I listen to myself sooner. I’m hoping that I pay more attention to the very subtle ways my body communicates with me and tells me I’m stressed, overwhelmed, anxious, triggered or uneasy, and I hope I take the steps to address those things.
I hope I remember that I have agency over my life and my schedule and that I can not be a good therapist, daughter, partner, or friend to others if I don’t first take care of myself.
And if you’re reading this, I imagine you might be feeling burnt out as well.
I hope that talking about burnout normalizes it and lets you know you’re not alone. I hope being more explicit about burnout invites reflection about what might be going on for you and what might be getting in the way of you taking care of yourself. I hope you can be curious about what you need, even if you don’t actually know just yet. I hope you start bumping your needs higher up the priority list and listen to the ways your specific intuition speaks to you. I hope you allow yourself the space to recharge back to your full self.
