I’ve said a lot about depression, self-compassion, and breakup blues.
I haven’t said much about burnout. I have that too. Have had for years, in fact.
This is just the first time that I’ve had a chance to stop and heal.
I did a day of work last week, the first one I’ve done since the end of November. It went well. It felt good. So I thought I would try to get a full week’s worth of work done.
Then I basically crashed again.
Sometimes, your skin feels sensitive and raw. Everything is, not if outright painful, then at least unpleasant to touch.
That’s how I feel today, and on a lot of days. Except that the skin is my mind, and the things that I touch are thoughts about things to be done.
Goals. Obligations. Future calendar entries. But even things like a computer game I was thinking of playing, or a Facebook comment I’m thinking of replying to. Anything that I need to keep track of, touches against that rawness in my mind.
That’s another big part of why I’ve been so focused on self-compassion recently. On being okay with not getting anything done. On taking pleasure from just being present. On enjoying little, ordinary things. Because that’s all I have, on moments like this.
I’m getting better. There are fewer days like this. There are many days when I’m actually happy, enjoying it when I do things.
But I’m still not quite recovered. And I need to be careful not to forget that, lest I push myself so much that I crash again.