A Little "Menty B"

Dear readers,

It’s been 407 days since my last post. Part of me would like to tell you that I have no idea why I haven’t felt like writing or posting. A much more honest part of me knows exactly why; I haven't have the bandwidth to be creative. I have just been trying to get through each day.

I’ve heard people say the words “job burnout,” but until very recently, I never thought it would apply to me. Colleagues consistently describe me as “organized” and “efficient.” A “heavy-hitter,” a “workhorse.” I used to take pride in these terms. Now, they make me cringe. How long have I been giving everything to an employer that hasn’t been giving back to me? Probably, my whole career… so the last 8 years?? As much as we all would really like to put the pandemic behind us, it was a significant life event and I am realizing that I haven’t fully recovered from all that was expected of me. (If you missed it, check out my posts here and here for my pandemic redeployment experiences).

I can do almost anything for a finite amount of time. I know this about myself. I am strong. I can deal. But what happens after it's “over?” When the dust settles and things get back to “normal?” When things keep being hard, but my ability to handle them is diminished?

Burnout. That’s what happens.

You might be thinking, Laura, you’re being dramatic. Just because you’re tired doesn’t mean you’re burnt out. Okay, maybe you’re not thinking this, but my internal voice certainly is. Fortunately, the Mayo Clinic has this handy-dandy little checklist of questions to ask yourself. (see my answers to these questions in bold)

• Have you become cynical or critical at work? YES

• Do you drag yourself to work and have trouble getting started? YES

• Have you become irritable or impatient with co-workers, customers or clients? YES

• Do you lack the energy to be consistently productive? YES

• Do you find it hard to concentrate? YES

• Do you lack satisfaction from your achievements? YES

• Do you feel disillusioned about your job? YES

• Are you using food, drugs or alcohol to feel better or to simply not feel? Kind of? I need cannabis to sleep, which is new.

• Have your sleep habits changed? YES (see above)

• Are you troubled by unexplained headaches, stomach or bowel problems, or other physical complaints? YES

If you answer yes to any of these questions, you might be experiencing job burnout. Hahahaha, fuck.

I would absolutely love to tell you that I am self aware enough to have noticed all these signs myself, but that would be a lie. I am much more likely to persevere at my own expense; driving myself into the ground. Hence the burnout. For the past few weeks, months? Drake has been gently telling me hard truths the way only a supportive partner can. Things like, “you don’t seem to be bouncing back from minor inconveniences,” “when you talk about work, it’s negative things,” and “you’re tired all the time, love.” Did I want to hear these things? No. Were they true? Yes, absolutely.

Drake knows me just as well as I know myself, he just doesn’t pretend not to see the difficult parts. Whereas, I’m really good at compartmentalizing and stuffing down hard feelings. So while I was hiding from the truth and trying to carry on with a brave face, Drake was patiently waiting to catch the pieces of me when I finally allowed myself to fall apart. As he pointed these hard truths out, I started to realize just how not okay I was. I started to notice that the minute I walked in the door to work, I wanted to leave. I noticed that I was grateful when patients canceled or no-showed because it meant I didn’t have to psych myself up emotionally; to put on a happy and calm facade for the next 60 minutes. I still love being an SLP. I still hold all of the same drive and passion to give those who can’t express themselves a voice. But right now, I just can’t muster up the energy to give it my all. I’m weary, easily irritated, and the weekend isn’t enough time for me to recharge. I’m burnt out.

When I went to my doctor, on a Tuesday after work, I told her I might need some time off. She agreed. I said something inane like, “Okay, so I’ll work the rest of the week?” She laughed and said, “No, you need to pull the plug. There is never going to be a perfect time for this. You’re off now.” And I burst into tears. Of relief. I couldn’t give myself permission to stop even though I knew I needed to. But a qualified medical professional could.

I feel immense guilt about taking a medical leave for my little "menty b" (i.e., mental breakdown) while I deal with my burn out. I know some of my patients won’t be seen and that my colleagues will need to cover for me and pick up extra on my behalf and I hate it. It feels selfish to need the time. It feels weak. If any of my colleagues came to me with the same narrative, I would wholeheartedly tell them to take the time to heal and that their mental health matters. But it is so hard to tell myself the same. Fortunately, my husband, doctor, therapist, friends, and colleagues tell me. Perhaps if they tell me enough, I’ll believe them.

Take care of yourself, friends. Your mental health matters.

Best,

Laura

[Cover photo credit for Question Hound by KC Green, found here]