Burnout

We all hate burnout because we must. It is designed to get its mucky tendrils under our skin, giving us unanimous discomfort. Without it though, we would not be able to find ourselves, place ourselves, in the sea of nonsense and energy-draining drama that surrounds us. A sea that must surround us because, at the bottom of that sea, is the magic pearl called success. This perspective on burnout, not as a demon but as an aid, may be a privileged one. However, it remains true that it is not the enemy. It is the absence of burnout, once it has served its purpose, is where the true enemy resides.

 

I have recently come back to my university from the long-awaited Christmas break which I spent at my family home. The break was evenly split down the middle: eleven days were spent at home, followed by a 2-day stint back at my university flat, then with by a further eleven days at home. That is all done now. The break is over.

 

Before this, I was facing burnout. Burnout manifesting in all the classic ways burnout shows its ugly face: tiredness, a lack of routine, little motivation, becoming irritable, no creative drive. It was as if the well had truly dried up. Then I came back home. I was sick for a little while (a cold or flu that had been going around, nothing remarkable), spent time with friends and family, then ultimately came back. The most important thing I did while at home, the most important thing to conquer burnout, was to do nothing at all. I was giving in to burnout because I could. Nothing else was on the cards other than do as little as possible. Tired? Sleep in, you’ve earned it. Not a whole lot of motivation? Don’t do a whole lot. No creative juices? No need, recharge. The idea of doing as little as possible may either sound like a dream or a death sentence, regardless it is an essential activity. Embracing the imposition of burnout IS its purpose.

 

After a few of these weeks of watching movies, going to the pub, and hanging out with friends passed by, I felt a sudden pull. The frustration was setting in. I can be doing a bit more with myself, getting up earlier, making sure to do something, anything, just a little bit less mindless. Little by little, my mind and body was weaning itself off the intoxicating effects of downtime. I started to notice my hours spent aimlessly sat Infront of my computer, the device which, in a moment of clarity, I had stuck a note to which read “this machine is the enemy of creativity”. After some thought, this frustration miraculously turned into gratitude: If I have the energy to get annoyed at myself for doing nothing, then the act of doing nothing has paid off. By the time I noticed this, I had only a week before my scheduled move in back to university (which would start practically straight away from my arrival). I had timed this perfectly.

 

However, that was this year. I am in second year now, and last year was markedly different. With the graduation from first to second year, along with myself came a change in how deadline dates and holiday breaks were distributed. Deadlines before breaks, shorter breaks. Before this, deadlines were often during the breaks, with the breaks themselves being significantly longer. Christmas break last year was twice as long as this year. Six weeks. Six weeks to accept burnout and feel refreshed. But when burnout was done, I didn’t feel refreshed. I didn’t go back to work. I still had six weeks off. Six weeks where I couldn’t shake the grasp of old routine, the law of childhood routine. Get up late. Spend days upon days toiling seemingly endlessly at a video game I had played hundreds of times before, sinking an ever-growing total of hours in to, acting as a gauge of how much of my life I had wasted. I accepted that burnout had played its part but refused to play mine.

 

Considering this, my perspective on how I spend my time has altered, perhaps irreversibly. Who would have thought that rest was important?