This year, I've been trying (and failing!) to rest and recharge my batteries after working too hard last year and whilst I have definitely worked fewer hours this year, I still haven't been particularly good at resting. This all came to a head this month when I took a week off work and, like all workaholics, got sick.
Everyone knows someone who works themselves too hard and never seems to stop or slow down; that person who inevitably catches a cold every single holiday? Although I have certainly been guilty of that in the past (hello flu after graduating uni!), my physical health has most definitely improved since becoming my own boss and this year was the first time in five years that I've needed to take a sick day.
Unable to take my own advice, my first two weeks off of the year weren't exactly restful so I was determined to make the most of my third week off, but after another busy summer of house sitting, followed by the exciting adventure of moving in with Watson (which is heaven, by the way), I probably shouldn't have been surprised when halfway into my week off, my body gave up and went into sick mode. Everything ached and I was exhausted. That was three weeks ago and I've only just started to feel more like myself again but if I'm being honest, I haven't felt 100% all year, not since burning out in January.
The term "burn-out" is commonplace these days but until experiencing it for myself, I thought it began and ended with needing to take a break and work less hard. I had no idea about the longer-term implications and that after going through it, you can't just return to your former workload (although having just reminded myself of what my calendar looked like last year, I can't see why anybody would actually want to).
Burn-out looks different for everyone that experiences it, with some cases being serious enough to require hospitalisation and months if not years of recovery, but for me it looked like depression that lasted about three months in total. Physically, I didn't have the energy to do anything more than the bare minimum and until I accepted that, I kept falling into the trap of trying to push through the lethargy to get stuff done, which only made it worse. I struggled to get out of bed and most mornings made the deal with myself that if I got out of bed, I didn't have to take a shower. Eventually the worst of the physical symptoms passed but I was left feeling mentally and emotionally drained for months afterwards. I've been very careful not to say yes to anything that could overwhelm me (like social engagements) because I'm still wary of being consumed by that all-encompassing lethargy again. As a result, I've lived a fairly quiet life this year and have been slowly building my strength, both physical and mental, back up.
For me, the annoying thing about this is the new normal I've had to acclimatise to. Before burning out, I was unstoppable. Although I have never been one for pulling all-nighters, I have been known to pull all-monthers. As I've grown the business and since the house sitting side of things has snowballed after the pandemic, my calendar went from working one weekend a month, to working flat out last year going from one house sitting to another. Throughout June to August last year, I had all of three weekends off. I knew I was ridiculously busy at the time but I didn't stop to think about the impact it might be having on my health. I naively thought that once I stopped being so busy, I would just slow down and return to normal; I didn't consider that there would be a cost to pay for the extra energy I was using up during that busy time. I was writing energy cheques my body couldn't cash and wracking up a huge energy debt.
In hindsight, it seems really obvious that I was headed for burn-out, but when you're in the middle of it, you can't see the wood for the trees. Now that I'm returning to "normal" I'm continuously frustrated by my new lower threshold for exhaustion and the fact that I can't work as hard as I used to. If I was giving everything 110% last year, this year I feel like I'm running at 50% capacity. I haven't been able to return to my previous level of "productiveness" and while I have no intention of working so many weekends in a row again, I can't help but feel like this version of me is "less-than" the old me.
I also have another theory of why I've been struck by another bout of illness this year. Just like the workaholic who gets sick when they take a holiday, I think my body has decided to "be sick" now that I've started what feels a bit like a really big life holiday. I'm talking about moving in with Watson.
For the past two years, I'd been living alone and whilst I loved having my own space and not having to compromise on décor, the mental load of having to do everything on your own was the hardest part of not living with a partner after doing it for so long. Decisions about the dogs when Barney was unwell were particularly taxing because they are big emotional decisions. Not having someone who fully understands the bond between you and your dog to talk treatment options through with was hard and felt even harder when who were also solely responsible for all the cooking, cleaning and bills. Not to mention also running your own business. You don't notice the contribution your other half makes until they're not there anymore.
But now that the boys and I have moved in with Watson, things are grand. We share the cooking and the cleaning and just having him around has reduced my mental load because I know that I don't have to make hard decisions on my own anymore. An important but complex chapter of my life has come to an end and in response to that weight being lifted, my body has gone on strike. I feel as though my subconscious has said "Oooh, we don't have to do everything anymore. There's someone else here who can take care of us and who is encouraging us to rest. We can let go now." One by one, each of my limbs has relaxed and I'm not kidding when I say that for several days in a row, I developed an ache in a different part of my body. Everything hurt. Smaller parts like fingers and toes hurt for a day while my arms and legs took longer to stop aching. My stomach felt as though I'd been sucker-punched and my head throbbed. When I gave in to it and slumped on the sofa with a duvet and the dogs, Watson brought me a hot water bottle. As I heard myself thanking him, I also heard a voice inside thanking him too, not for the small acts of kindness he constantly shows me, but for the much bigger gift of allowing me time and space to slow down, to take off my armour and to just be. I felt my shoulders drop and my back relax and I found myself weeping before falling into a deep sleep right there on the sofa.
Now that I've realised what is going on, I've been much better at honouring my need to slow down and rest. My work schedule is much lighter for the rest of the year and I have every intention of keeping it that way while I continue to rest and build up my strength. With the extra free time I will have after work, I plan on getting my Christmas shopping done and my presents wrapped so that maybe, just maybe, this year might actually be the year that I spend December not running errands, but instead cosying up on the sofa watching Christmas films and eating all the snacks. I say this every year, but I've got really high hopes for this one.
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