I'd be curious to know what it is about certain moments that seem ordinary at the time but
somehow end up staying with you forever.
You'll find yourself going about your daily activities when suddenly you hear someone's
voice in your head, a memory of an interaction that you didn't realize at the time would
stick in this way.
I've had so many of those.
I really should start writing them down as they come up.
I guess this one is actually significant though.
I don't know why I started so dramatically with that opening.
Sometimes it seems like a minor little thing, though I feel it's probably deeply rooted
if we're to have it with us until the end of our time.
Last night, when I was settling in, I remembered a time, five or so years ago, when I had an
interaction with a sweet little lady who I had been caring for in the hospital.
I'm someone who loves to get insight and knowledge from the wise old owls that I meet.
Surprisingly, I actually do learn lessons and learn through the experience of others.
It explains why I spent so much of my interactions with people I found interesting asking them
at length about their lives.
I could write a book about the insights I've collected over the years.
Hmm, let's pin that for later.
She was in the ER for a few days for some complications that had occurred unexpectedly.
I was her nurse a few days in a row, which was a nice treat.
Sometimes the continued patient care isn't a bad thing.
ER was always nice for a variety and not needing to feel stuck with difficult situations or
patients, but there were times where I would be happy to see familiar faces.
Usually it was a result of our health care system not having the proper resources to
relocate them where they should be, but I tried to make the most of it.
It also helped to have previous knowledge of their case, so it didn't expend as much
energy coming on to shift.
Some of the details are fuzzy now.
I recall she had an interesting story about her life.
She'd been a hard worker for years, holding a job for her entire adult life when back
in her youth it was a time when men dominated the field or the workforce in general, inspiring
to say the least.
At the time of our interaction, she had been retired for quite a while, but it wasn't
long enough that she forgot the transition point in her life.
She was one of those who dabbled part time, at first unable to fully let go.
You know the type.
I remember asking her what it was like to retire after that many years of work.
At that point, I would always push away thoughts of retirement from my mind.
It seemed like some privilege that I was nowhere near and that I would struggle to get to.
This was probably around the time of my first experience with burnout.
I think it was before the pandemic, or just shortly so.
I remember the sound of her voice and how clear it sounded when she said, I didn't
realize just how burned out I had been for so many years.
It took a long time for me to recover.
She told me it took at least a year after she stepped away from the working world completely
before she felt she could finally breathe.
She talked at length about exhaustion that she had never realized existed within her
and how she needed a lot of time to rest before she could really settle into what would make
her feel good about her golden years.
She elaborated more as I was curious.
My own situation was worsening at this time and I needed to know that there was hope that
there could be some light at the end of the tunnel.
From what I remember, it was a lot of gentleness, allowing for sleep when she required it and
just resting.
What stuck with me was how she said it, her tone, that she was surprised to see how long
it took for her to recover from the fatigue that had taken years to set in and take over,
but she hadn't even recognized how bad it had been until she was able to step away,
allowing it to fully take over.
This memory appeared to me last evening as I asked myself, man, when's the last time
I worked?
September 6th.
As I record this, January 16th, it marks four months and some days.
Four months.
In terms of life, what does that look like?
It's more time than kids get between school years and the summer.
It's more weeks in a row than anyone can ever accumulate as vacation time at any job,
not accounting for self-employed or business owners.
19 weeks to date.
That's half a pregnancy.
I curse the fact that time is an arbitrary concept to me.
It's either now or not now.
It's not a tangible thing that I comprehend due to the inner workings of my brain.
This means I often need to focus inward on what this means in terms of my life, comparatively
to other things.
So many thoughts swirl through my mind here.
Now.
I think about how I didn't work as long as she did to get to this level of burnout in
my own life, how it struck me significantly, and she didn't even notice the full extent
until she left completely.
This isn't healthy.
It's comparison, and we are not the same two people.
There are many differences there, and we were not built the same.
To overcome so many generational changes and see what she's seen, that's the resilience
of a different nature.
Like a massive sequoia tree who has withstood the test of time, great winds, and the expansion
of humanity at a rapid pace.
There's no use negating myself and my experience.
After all, you can't compare an apple to an orange as they say.
They're simply not the same fruit.
Both of our experiences are valid and real.
I think about how I still feel the tiredness in my soul, despite having the number of days
that have passed.
That seemed to be a lot, maybe not in terms of a lifespan, but of one year, a fourth of
the year, 25%.
That's a long time not to work.
At least, that's what society says.
Then I tell myself, you know, all that time was not spent resting.
A lot has happened in those four months.
I learned so much simply having gone on the road.
That was seven of those 19 weeks.
Just under half, really, that was a lot and took a toll in its own way.
I have absolutely no regrets though.
Everything happens as it should in its own time.
I ask myself what I always ask myself when I do these updates.
How are you?
How does it feel?
How is the burnout doing?
I am okay, in a sense, anyways.
I'm coming to terms with the fact I'm a heavy feeler and my experience in life will forever
be rocked by the intensity of the waves of emotions I experience.
Not always a bad thing if you want to feel the good emotions so strongly, you're going
to need to accept the other side of the coin as well.
I think this is something I'm coming to terms with more so than I ever have.
Sometimes I still feel on pause in limbo.
I remind myself this isn't that it's life.
It's always currently life.
I am living in this moment on this day.
This is what life looks like.
This is what it feels like.
It doesn't need to be this dramatic thing with flashy lights and sparkles all the time.
Time is not wasted.
Moments are not wasted if I am not constantly exposed to new things.
In fact, that's probably what should be avoided if I'm aiming for a healthier balanced life.
So this quiet life, this phase I'm in, it's loud.
Right now, it can be pretty loud.
There's some reverting back to needing noise in the background to help keep me afloat.
Not always, but more than before.
Eventually, I anticipate adding a bit more excitement and variety into it, but I need
to do it when I feel ready, when I can fully trust that it's where me and myself are at.
We're in a new territory, feeling it out, seeing how we want to proceed, cautious.
Doing new things is scary when it's not familiar, even if it's a normal healthy thing.
For those who come from dramatically patterned pasts, that safety and quiet is scary.
I am still learning, still navigating this.
Constant reminders that I'm safe, that I'm okay.
The word exhausting whispers around these words as I put them down here today.
Sometimes I think, gosh, it's been four months, how long will this take?
Then I remember that patient and her words.
It took her a long time, a lot longer than she realized.
I can take a breath here, it's okay.
This is what it is, it might take a while.
It's certainly improved, better in some ways.
I notice when I get caught up and stressed, it hits me like a ton of bricks, all at once,
rather than a slow mounting pressure.
The signs, the signals, they're stronger.
I am learning and have learned to listen to myself in ways I would often ignore before.
My old thinking is still present, it takes a long time to shake and build new patterns,
but I'm here doing exactly that, gentle reminders daily.
You know what's nice to realize though?
I did it, I didn't die, the world didn't end.
I remember before, having this knowing that I needed to get out of the environment I was
in, that space, that place.
I felt such a strong hold though, like a prisoner, but there was no bars or handcuffs.
Only those that were self-imposed, a side effect of the constant whispers of expectations
that I was to try to meet, that my body and spirit fought against on a regular basis.
No, it would say.
This isn't it, this isn't right, this isn't for you, this isn't of you, this isn't you.
I remember all the things I'd heard, the words of strangers in my story that kept me
rooted, all things we've heard either directed at ourselves, or as we witnessed it be directed
towards others, instilling its messages into us by proxy.
That of shame.
Now I hear my friends, when they speak their struggle, how they can't leave because of
reason X, Y, Z.
All sound logical reasons when put onto paper, yet illogical when you think of how it's
you ignoring your true nature, shoving your inner knowing back into the closet, and trying
to soundproof the space so that the calls that are getting louder, stronger, are easier
to continue to ignore.
I was there, I remember, but I did it.
I left, I walked away, and nothing happened.
I didn't die, the world didn't end.
This causes a smile to cross my lips as I whisper to myself.
I did it.
This freeing of myself, it opened a door, a new perspective, a new understanding, an awakening.
I can look back now and see just how most of my concerns, my worries, anxieties, problems,
they were self-made.
I mean, yeah, they were heavily infused by society, by the culture, others around me,
but I didn't owe anything to anyone.
No one owned me, I just let them.
I believed that they did, and so I behaved that way.
Now I look at the struggles of others, realizing I can't help them know, but hurting in my
heart because it's so easy to see once you've opened your eyes.
All of the things I had spent so much time worrying about, fighting against, accumulated
to a moot point, it's maybe why I struggle now to provide empathy to people who are not
ready to change.
I try to be gentle, but I see with a lot more clarity now.
I've been there, done that.
I'm so glad that I did.
The biggest hurdle to jump was the key to freedom.
The doing, and then it was all just open space to exist within.
The cage you stand in, the one you're trapped in, have you even tried to open the door,
or are you just assuming it's locked?
Because it's not locked.
It never was.
The entire time, the door has been closed, yeah, but you can open it.
The burnout still resides within, to some degree.
The more freedom I find, the more it lessens.
It's a slow pace, sure, but there's progress.
Some days, I find myself asking, how am I so tired?
I'm not even doing anything these days.
And then I think back to my patient.
How it took so long to build up to this level of burnout.
It can't be that easy to erase and break free of.
As with anything, it takes time.
It took time to get here, so it will take time to return to myself.
I'm in sort of a cocoon phase at the moment.
A lot is going on while nothing is happening.
It's a quiet existence, but necessary.
Sometimes I get lonely, probably more than I care to admit, but I still find it difficult
to intentionally and purposely interact.
Non-purposeful interactions, small talk, unopened messages containing mindless memes
I'm still not able to deal with.
Nor do I want to.
I try to keep my time and my presence intentional.
I don't doom scroll or play as many phone games as I used to.
It just seems too exhausting.
Funny, hey, something I used to use as an escape is now too tiring for the mind?
It's like there's a knowing.
This is mindless.
It's not helpful.
It's a waste of time.
Time is precious.
When I go interact with strangers in the world, I find myself pleasantly surprised to leave
with a smile, community and interaction.
It's important, but I still keep these limited.
Sometimes it's the wrong type, surrounded by people catching up, gossiping about the
lives and on-going of others.
Yuck.
Not what I want to fill my surroundings with.
That doesn't belong in my soul and body.
It's not mine to hold.
I still find myself happy to retreat to my quiet space.
I do recognize that some point soon I will need to re-emerge.
Slowly slowly, not all at once.
Maybe I'll get a job.
Volunteer.
Join a group.
My partner's mom and I recently started painting at a ceramics class, which we'll be doing
weekly for a few weeks to try it out, to see if it can fit into routine, into a healthy
way.
It was fun, focused, different though, but it's good to try new things once in a while
and see if it fits.
That's currently where I'm at.
I truly believe that for the most part, my days at the bedside are over.
I still find that it feels bad in my body when I contemplate a job that involves me
providing such close, intimate care to others.
Not in the physical sense, but mentally, spiritually, and empathetically.
I've been painting.
I've been reading.
I've been slowly learning to trust myself.
My needs and my intuition.
It's not easy work.
I want to write past journaling, but I haven't yet built up the courage to do so.
I feel like there's a dam.
It's full, threatening to overflow.
That once I begin, I won't be able to stop.
A rush of pent-up energy will sweep me away, and I don't trust that I will resurface for
a time.
This is territory I will enter with extreme caution.
Sometimes, I just need to remind myself to be gentle.
There is no deadline.
No timeline that is looming over me.
Over any of us, we can take the time we need.
In fact, we must.
I've got to live another complete lifetime, and some, before my time is up on this earth,
assuming nature takes its course and nothing happens in between.
That means I need to be all good with myself.
You know?
It's the only way to make it through this.
We got this, friends.
Just keep trying to do the thing that your heart calls out to you, no matter how hard
it may seem.
It gets better.
It really does.