In about August last year, probably around the shallow celebrations of women’s month, something changed.
Foods that I normally ate didn’t interest me. I didn’t feel like going out much. I had a nap after work almost every day.
I couldn’t get into any books, and movie and TV shows seemed like too much concentration.
I write from passion, from a love of words. Yet, between September and December last year I wrote almost nothing. This was, for me, devastating.
But A-type personality adult-child that I am I carried on. ‘Must soldier on’ is pretty much my survival mechanism.
Make lists, and do one thing at a time. Until, I just … couldn’t. The hardest part was admitting it to myself. After that, it got easier.
Burnout is something you hear about all the time in popular culture and it’s easy to see why.
Read more: Are you suffering from work burnout?
We have access to more information, more opportunities, more desires than ever before. There is pressure on women to look, feel, and be amazing 24/7. Plus, we have to show how amazing we are on Instagram.
I’m pulling together a collection of essays this year and more than half of the writers emailed on the deadline date asking for an extension citing burnout as their reason for being unable to complete it.
These are talented feminists, leading in their fields, working themselves to the point of exhaustion.
This year I’m committing to doing only things that I really want to do. To saying no when I need to. To letting myself rest.
I’m taking care of me, and I hope you take care of you.
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