Trigger warning: this essay opens with suicidal thoughts.
The first time I ever thought about death by suicide was looking out my flat window in Wellington, NZ. I strategized how I would launch myself out the window frame, aiming for the large electric trolley cables before smacking the ground. If I jumped out a 2nd story window I may not die on impact, so I needed to shock my heart first. I’d likely be hit by a car as well.
1 - electric shock
2 - pavement smack
3 - car crushing
The plan seemed plausible and sensible. The owner of the stained glass store, underneath our flat, would hear the noise and come rushing out, pushing his glasses on top of his hair, covering his mouth with his black stained fingertips.
I was 33 years old and wanted to kill myself.
For the past four years I’d built a company with 3 other co-founders, taking $10,000 each from my mother and brother for our new idea. In my role I created a new brand, built an online community of artists, hired new staff and ran a marketing and social media team for the company. This 4-years of deep and over commitment ended in a tense shareholders meeting where my co-founders ambushed me with documents they’d gathered in secret.
I recognized there was a deep and significant values misalignment between myself and my co-founders. Armed with deep guilt for the money my family had committed I handed in my notice and left the company.
Now I was clouded in angry rage, shock and sadness. I would be drinking a cup of Tetley tea and instantly get pulled back to the shareholder’s meeting. I’d see J. stand up and slap down the pile of secretly signed documents, like she was helming her own episode of Succession. My stomach would lurch and I’d be thrust back to the cup of tea at my lips.
I was controlled by my nervous system and my brain couldn’t keep up with the ebb and flow of adrenaline. When I wasn’t racing through time my toenails were falling out and my jaw was clenched. I felt pain down my neck and along my arms as I lay down on the couch just like an over stimulated new born.
With support from my husband I told my doctor I had been having suicidal thoughts and she asked if I’d planned out my death. I took her through my three-step thinking, then she calmly rolled her wooden chair over to me, took my hand and explained I had symptoms of clinical depression brought on by long term burn out. She wanted to help.
It all felt normal
At the time I felt normal.
It felt normal to have a buzzing body.
It felt normal to be slipping through time.
It felt normal to nap for hours during daylight.
With medication the time travel stopped, the pain was mitigated and the thought of throwing myself from my living room window seemed outrageous. I was in recovery from long-term burnout.
The World Health Organization describes burnout as a workplace phenomenon characterized by feelings of exhaustion, cynicism and reduced efficacy. And we see burnout everywhere. The four closest people in my life have all experienced burnout:
M. burned out after her intense daily experiences with at-risk-youth.
J. burned out after his flight or fight system got triggered every day for 2 years.
G. burned out after delivering physical and emotional therapy in her office for 10 years.
S. burned out after being bullied intensely by her boss on and off for years.
While my sample is small it’s reflective of our world. According to a study by the project management tool Asana, almost 70% of 10,000 knowledge workers across seven countries experienced burnout in the last year.
One thing all burnees have in common is an intense shame:
I should’ve looked after myself better.
I should’ve done more meditation.
I should’ve eaten more healthily.
I should’ve taken more walks.
I should’ve listened to my body.
I should’ve known better.
Not only have we just burnt out our nervous system, but now we’re shaming and blaming ourselves for not preventing it in the first place.
Burnout is a system we all operate in.
You are part of a system that demands optimal performance with cold plunges, green shakes and morning meditation.
You are part of a system telling you to take 40,000 steps, but also demands your steps do “double-duty” with a work call to discuss the project deadline, or finish your audiobook Atomic Habits so you can get more done.
You are part of a system that preaches self care and relaxation with a whisper, but then yells at you to do better time-blocking and bullet journaling for peak productivity.
Your burnout is systemic.
Now I take walks and listen to music or, gasp, listen to nothing at all! I sometimes sit in my garden with the sun on my face and smile, or cry. I do what feels right for me, not what the system expects me to do.
To My Fellow Burnees,
Drop the shame.
Recognize you’re part of a system that rewards grit and perseverance to the detriment of your mental health.
Take a deep breath my friend.
We’re all burning out and in this you may find some comfort.
You’re not alone.
If you are struggling with suicidal thoughts please reach out to an organization that can help.
If you want to chat please feel free to connect with me.
thank you for sharing ❤️
Wow, this is so open, honest, and relatable - kudos for having the courage to publish it. My flavor of burnout has been a bit different and it’s something I’m constantly aware of and trying to manage. This is a great reminder that burnout is more than just “me.” Thank you