i think we can all agree that meeting yourself where you're at is easier said than done

five things I'm doing each day to help me stay present and focused on my goals this summer

This summer is different. It’s slower. Blurrier. The heat melts the days together and then the weeks pool into months. My new research contract doesn’t start for another few weeks, and I’ve often found myself with endless amounts of free time. After a busy start to the year, this feels extremely uncomfortable as any other over-achiever reading this will wholeheartedly confirm. I ping pong back and forth between visions of rigid routines and relaxed flexibility. I can’t seem to decide whether I want this free time to mean something. Whether I want to dedicate it wholeheartedly to a big creative project. Or whether I want to allow myself to just be. Both options, I believe, have merit. Both options, I now know from experimentation, probably aren’t possible for me in this season. In fact, I might need to meet myself somewhere in the middle.

Let’s go back to the beginning. I spent the first few days of this week throwing myself all in on a new ‘summer routine’ after allowing myself to recover from our honeymoon over the weekend. I was hitting 10,000 steps a day, doing workouts, JOGGING!, doing my skincare, keeping the house clean, and feeling honestly amazing. It felt so nice to have structure and follow through on something I have fantasized about over the last few months since our wedding. I have dreamt for so long about feeling productive that it felt so satisfying to be making progress towards my goals. Then, promptly on Wednesday afternoon, I crashed. Hard. I’m talking had to take a nap halfway through drinking my smoothie kind of hard.

At once, my eyes felt heavy and my body felt magnetically attached to the surface of my sofa. Somehow, I still managed to get myself up (after an hour or so) and get my remaining steps in for the day. I listened to my audiobook while I strolled. It was great. I felt so proud to have continued following through on the plan. I ticked these habits off each day as I went. I was ecstatic to physically see the progress in black and white on the page. You see, for the last few months, I’ve been at war with my own fatigue. I had high hopes that this new routine and structure wold bring me out of the fog. Yes, it would be difficult at first, but if I pushed through then it would build up my energy. Slowly. Until I was back to normal. This was really working.

Or so I thought… Thursday morning, I could barely get out of bed. I dragged myself from the bed to the sofa. The sofa to the kitchen. Then back to the sofa. Then back to bed. I made myself food, took a shower, and couldn’t bare to even check an email or scroll social media. I felt defeated. The routine didn’t work. I felt even worse than I did before, which was seemingly impossible. I quietly resolved that I would be tired and miserable for the rest of my life, as I stood in the shower and let the water pour down alongside my tears.

I don’t want to be burned out. I miss the old version of me who could focus for hours without issue. I miss driving and not panicking that I’m going to faint or crash into someone because my mind doesn’t feel as sharp. I miss getting together with my friends and family. I miss taking my dog on walks without cutting them short because I’m scared I won’t have the energy to drive home if I push myself too far. I miss feeling energetic and alive in the mornings. It feels the same as it did five years ago right before I quit drinking. I’m sick and tired of feeling sick and tired. I know burnout recovery is not linear, but jeepers is it devastating to realise it’s back.

Of course, instead of being compassionate with myself I jumped straight into self-criticism and catastrophizing. The same thing happens when I find myself in a depressive episode. In my mind, I fully believe that things will always be this way. I believe I’ll never be able to drive again. I’ll never progress in my career. I convince myself that this newsletter, which I love, will have to fizzle out. I fear that my partner will lose interest in me and be burdened by my malaise. One of the worst things about experiencing depression, in my opinion, is the hopelessness of the future. The seemingly unshakeable belief that things will never improve. That’s what gets ya.

I kept trying to push through the fatigue over this weekend —a weekend where the heat broke records here in Ireland. I berated myself. I should be outside enjoying the sun. I should be at the beach. I should be grilling burgers. I should be making fruit salad. I should be with friends. I should at least be using this time to read my book. Or do all the laundry. But all I could do was lie on my sofa. Scrolling social media didn’t help. Other people’s summertime fun slapped me across the face with each swipe of the screen. I kept trying to push through. Then, it happened.

As I was hanging clothes on the line in my garden, I sprained my back. Suddenly, I had no choice but to slow down and rest. Plans to go to the beach went out the window. I’ve been walking around like Miss Finster from Recess since yesterday. I took it as a sign from God, the universe, whoever — to accept that slowing down was necessary in this season I am in. As much as I’d love for this summer to be the one where I use all my free time to be wildly productive and creative, it can still be those things—just not at the level or pace I had hoped.

No one really talks about how much burnout parallels grief. First, there is the denial that our energy and capacity has shifted. I argued with myself for weeks and told myself I couldn’t actually be tired, I was just being lazy. Then, there is the anger. Whether that’s anger at ourselves for being fatigued, or anger that we got ourselves into this situation in the first pace. Or anger that we’re going through this and everyone else gets to live their best lives.

Then comes the bargaining. For me, that looks like prayer—praying for more energy, for things to feel better tomorrow, for this heaviness to lift. And then, the depression. The grief over everything left undone. The experiences missed. Even when we're physically present, we’re not really there. The hopelessness is overwhelming. But eventually, acceptance arrives. The quiet realisation that no matter how hard I resist, this is the season I’m in. This is how it is.

Obviously, grieving a human being is a much more devastating process, but I can clearly see how the cycle of burnout and recovery mimics the stages of grief. I know I recently wrote about accepting that I was burned out—but guess what? I went away for two weeks, came home thinking I’d moved through it, and had to come to terms with it all over again. This is why they say going on holiday won’t fix everything to people who have specific work-related burn out.

Since I received the message loud and clear to rest and slow down, things have felt easier. I still do a lot of mental work around resting and allowing myself to relax so much of the day while I’m not ‘earning it’ by working. There’s also some mental work I’m doing around the recurrent beliefs that I’ll never feel normal again. Journalling is really helping me write and dream about a positive future beyond what I’m currently going through.

Today, I woke up and had a slow morning. I made myself banana pancakes, drank coffee, and did some lower back stretching and yoga before taking a shower and sitting down to write this newsletter for you. I’m so grateful to have a partner who loves me and is willing to pick up the slack when I’m out of commission. It’s still uncomfortable to take things off my to-do list and let other people help out.

This week, I’m taking a different approach to my habits and routines. I’ve shifted things so they are more doable than aspirational. I could use a little dose of accomplishment around here and these habits leave a lot of room for rest and ease. Here they are:

• journaling first thing in the morning

• putting my face in ice water

• getting 7,000 steps a day (30 minute walk)

• doing a 10 minute workout (yoga, strength, HIIT, whatever!)

• reading 10 pages of my book before bed

I worried about whether or not this would be boring for you —a complaint about how tired I am disguised as a newsletter. But I couldn’t imagine writing about anything else right now as this has been heavy on my mind. I still remember a few years ago I didn’t think burnout was real. I thought it was a buzzword. I thought it was just for hospital staff or those super-over-achievers who ran multimillion dollar companies with jam packed schedules.

But burnout is real. It can affect anyone, no matter what job they have. It can affect you even if, like me, you are not even working a job at the moment. Even if you stay at home all day. There is no prerequisite. No checklist. It just sneaks up on you and then it’s there until it’s not. I know I’ve worked through burnout worse than this. That’s one thing that is keeping me going right now, honestly. I’ve been through worse and I know and trust that I will make it to the other side.

I don’t want to put my creative projects that I’m really excited about on the sidelines until burnout passes. I don’t think I need to. I just need to find a new system that allows flexibility and ease. It’s going to look different than I originally planned and now that I’ve accepted that, I can start working with my energy and capacity rather than against it. This is just one of the many ups and downs of life, and I’m grateful for this slower season in between work contracts that allows me to heal.

This is my reminder to check in with yourself. How are you really doing? If you’re in a season like this too, you’re not alone. Burnout doesn’t mean you’re broken—it means you’ve been carrying too much, for too long. Give yourself permission to slow down, to shift your expectations, and to rest without guilt.

I’m learning (slowly) that rest can be just as valuable as action. That creating from a place of slowness and softness is still creating.

Take care of yourself this week. Go gently.

until next time,
Melissa x

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