Burnout

My first memory of burnout was before I even knew what burnout was.

It was during my parent-teacher meeting in Grade 1. I remember smiling so hard that my cheeks began to hurt as the teacher sang my praises to my parents.

I was pleased with myself for making my school happy, my parents proud, and my older sisters honoured as I followed in their footsteps. I was content because everyone around me was content.

They were the priority, not me.

As I grew older, I carried this emotion with me. If I did what made my bosses happy, I felt purposeful. If I agreed with my colleagues, even when something deep inside me quietly disagreed, I kept the peace.

Don’t get me wrong — I can say no, but I can’t embody the no.

And slowly, without realising it, I laid the foundation for burnout. I would go from smiling and acquiescing to quietly burning out behind the scenes until finally my soul couldn’t handle it anymore, and an outburst would emerge.

Everyone around me was confused because to them it felt sudden. One moment I was happy and the next I was angry.

What they didn’t see was the long internal journey it took for me to get there.

I have a very high tolerance before burnout shows itself outwardly, yet the internal struggle always leaves a heavy mark.

At one point, it became so severe that due to health reasons, I temporarily lost mobility in both my hands and genuinely couldn’t work. When I was admitted to hospital, I wasn’t sad or even scared.

Instead, I was relieved.

My body had finally said what I couldn’t: Enough is enough. Time to take care of you.

I’d love to say that was a wake-up call, but honestly, it was more of a wake-up whisper.

I am still on the journey of learning how to respect my boundaries without harbouring unwanted guilt.

The difference this time, though, is that I am no longer berating myself for burning out.

I am walking through this journey with self-compassion.

Stay tuned :)