two years

On Thursday 16 January 2020 I was having a quiet word with my team leader at my desk in our open plan office, before a meeting. I'd been feeling the strain and wanted to talk about moving from full time to 4/5ths. She knew it was something I'd been considering. "How are you doing at the moment?" she asked. I tried to answer, but let out a big sob instead. 

After moving to the stairwell to dry my tears, we headed to the meeting. As my finance colleague showed us slides of graphs, I couldn't hear a word she was saying. I was sitting in a room with the entire office and all my energy was on stopping the tears sliding down my face. I was trying to slow my breathing, stop myself crying. It didn't work. A colleague across the room caught my eye. Her kind questioning look broke through my efforts. I got up quickly and excused myself. The HR person followed me out of the office and we went to a meeting room on another floor. For an hour, I let it all out. The frustration at the work I'd done that was being undermined or blocked higher up the hierarchy; the stress I was under trying to balance a home life with three growing children and a full time job - how I was feeling guilty about not picking my kids up earlier when I was at work, and guilty about having had to leave that piece of work unfinished when I was at home; the upcoming event in three weeks that I was responsible for organising abroad, involving partners from all over Europe... I took a deep breath and listened as my colleague told me I was to go home, take the next day and the weekend to rest and we would talk again on Monday.

I had no idea those two days would turn into two weeks of sick leave, which were then extended multiple times until I was off work for six months.

Today, on Sunday 16 January 2022 I am feeling many things. The stress I am feeling is mostly related to the fact that my husband tested positive for covid on Friday, and my youngest daughter yesterday.  

Despite this, when I think about the differences between my life then and now, I can't help but feel grateful for that day that changed my life. I needed to reset and recharge my batteries that had been depleted for some time. I needed to understand that I was not alone in this experience of burning out and reevaluating my life. There are some amazing books out there and I am making my way through them, slowly, steadily. There are some incredible people who are using their experience to help others, and I knew that I wanted to join them. 

The personal development I have been through culminated in life coach training, which convinced me I can use this experience to help others face up to the challenges in their life and take decisions that will help them thrive.

The discussions with friends and colleagues who have their own experiences of burnout have led to the establishment of a non-profit Madame Papillon, which aims to accompany women in Brussels through burnout by providing resources, community (through discussion groups and other forms of exchange) and a re-introduction to joy through wellbeing and creative workshops. We've had huge challenges setting this up, not helped by the global pandemic and it has been a masterclass in slowing down, being kind to ourselves and reframing 'failures' as learning experiences.

On Friday, I took part in a Madame Papillon creative writing and bookmaking workshop, which had to be held online due to the rise of omicron. In our introductions to the other participants we shared a piece of writing that resonated with us. I found this, from Dr Dina Glouberman's The Joy of Burnout:

I am not sure why burnout has such resonance. The word speaks, I think, to the part of us that wants to burn on with the fire of life, love, passion, challenge and meaning and it describes our devastation when that fire seems to have burned itself out. It vividly captures, also, the nature of the experience. People who have burned out describe it in terms such as ‘I could almost feel my brain burning’ or ‘It was like my nervous system was fried’ or ‘Instead of growing like a tree, I was a pile of ash.’

For me, it also has another subliminal meaning. It reminds me that the phoenix rises from ashes, and that burnout is really a message of renewal.

When we burn out, it is our old personality that burns itself out. Then our soul fire begins to light our way and to bring us joy. 

Two years ago, joy was not something that would have featured highly in my life, but I am happy to say that it is creeping back in. I still feel stress, I still have moments of overwhelm, but I now have ways of dealing with it that do not involve crying in stairwells.