How to Fail at Fighting Burnout
The other day, a friend said myself and many of the people in that friend group have a cockroach mentality. I haven't stopped thinking about it. It's so accurate for me, it hurts. If I can survive it, it's fine. Things don't have to be good or enjoyable, just tolerable most of the time. Truth is, my standards are pretty low. I'm willing to put up with too much bullshit in my life.
Don't get me wrong, if I find myself in a situation I'd describe as "insufferable," I'll usually do things to change it. Sometimes I'll just stick it out. It's all a sliding scale, right? So of course I don't want to stay somewhere or doing something that makes me miserable, I'll deal if it's:
- due to some person or persons I almost never have to interact with
- extremely temporarily (the annoying part of a cool project, a boring training, etc.)
- in the ADHD way that makes any job or task insufferable when I don't want to do it
- to get something cool or desirable out of the deal (overtime, time off, etc.)
It's like a relationship, right? You're going to fight with your partner (and if you don't, that's a different issue that I'm not qualified to help you work through). But facts are facts, and the fact is I need a break. My three year mark at my day job is coming up and, other than a couple long weekends for friend lake trips, sick days, and holidays, I haven't taken any time off.
There's no need for me to beat around the bush: I'm burnt. the. fuck. out.
So, I'm writing this on day 1 of my first staycation in years. Yesterday, Friday, was my last work shift until next Thursday. I figured I'd document how it goes.
You may be wondering why I didn't take time off earlier if I was having such a rough go of it. Great question. That would have been smart. But if you reread the earlier statement, you already have the answer. I am a cockroach. I knew I could survive burnout because I've gone through it with every single job I've ever worked.
At my old jobs, I never took relaxing time off because all my PTO went to call outs when my (then unknown) Crohn's was flaring up. At this job, it's because it's a fucking hassle to take time off without the whole thing being more stressful than the stress relief I'd get from a break.
Here's the issue. With how my work (and pay) is structured, I have to do a LOT more work to make up for the days I'll be out. It'll suck. It'll be annoying and exhausting and stressful. I know that the whole week before will have practically double the workload.
So what pushed me over the edge to do the dang thing? I had some PTO about to expire. I knew wasting another year's PTO just to avoid the crunch would be much more detrimental in the long run. I needed a damn break, and this gave me the perfect excuse to bite the bullet and take one.
I told myself I could take the weekend off. Fully. My husband and I played video games together and they cooked me delicious dinners. But still, I made us french toast for breakfast. I wanted to! I was so excited knowing I didn't have to punch back in the next morning.
And those mornings? I slept until I woke up naturally, then got a little silly to make coffee and cook breakfast. I took walks early before the heat rose. I was proactive with dishes and the trash and straightening up around the house. I practiced my art. I got further in my Spanish lesson. I wrote on my book.
I wrote on my book.
It'd been a long time since I'd made meaningful progress on the story. With me, it's like inertia stacks. Like the longer I'm at rest in a specific task, the harder it is to start it back up. Any task, no matter what it is or how badly I want to do it. And yes, it sucks just as much as it sounds like it would.
I'm over 40k words drafted and I'm so excited to move onto the next part. I made some small changes to plant seeds for the conversation that I'm about to write, and now it's time to get down to some real story progress. Having 3 whole week days to just work on that, to draw, to read, to exist and spend time with my loved ones. I felt spoiled. It felt fake, like a dream that was destined to take a turn for the worse. Life isn't allowed to be that idyllic.
It's now just after my three year anniversary at my job, the first weekend after my mini vacation, and I already miss it. I liked feeling like I could breathe.
But weirdly, I almost regret it. Not for real, but like, kinda.
I'd be lying if I said the break didn't help. I did my normal work the past two days, and I still managed to get a bunch of other small tasks done to make up for the time I missed during my shifts. I've still been more productive around the house since the time off, too! But I don't find my day gig any less draining, even after stepping back from it for a bit.
Taking time off gave me an idea of what an average day in my life could be if I lived my dream. A day self-employed. A day as an author. A day working on games with my husband. A day where the crushing weight of capitalism didn't leave me gasping for breath at every moment. A day where profits mattered less than people and my happiness was the main goal.
All of this to say, if my goal was to "fix" my burnout, this attempt was a colossal failure. However, I'm so glad that I did it. I'm glad I forced myself to take time. I'm glad it helped me reset the clock on some of my tasks that were starting to feel out of reach.
It's lit a fire under me. I have to push harder. I have to keep a better schedule. I want to finish some of these things I'm working on. I have new projects I want to start, new ideas to flush out.
I can't live the life that I want as things are today, but that doesn't mean I can't do the most I can to fill my time with things I enjoy.
That was a long one, and with no pictures at that! You deserve a treat. Here's a fun picture I took of my husband and I earlier this year.
