My Burnout Thing

Burnout recovery tip 2: The nothing

If you're new here, you may want to subscribe to my RSS feed. Thanks for visiting!

As mentioned in my '13 things' towards recovery from burnout, napping is one thing, just lying down is quite another. 

In the last post (Burnout recovery tip 1: The Helen Keller Approach) we talked about stripping back stimuli to give your senses a rest. This means going somewhere quiet for a little lie down. No books, no TV, no computer, no iPod, iPad or i-any-other-gadget. This is 'u' time, baby. 

Think womb.

And this leads nicely to our topic today.

Why what I've recommended might be hell

To those who are reasonably healthy, stripping back external stimuli (noises, smells and such) might sound quite nice. A little cocoon to cuddle oneself.

However, if you have uncomfortable or painful symptoms, applying this advice can prove a rather challenging experience. After all, those external distractions can stop us from thinking about how awful we feel. They have often saved me from going completely gaga (and, no, there's no 'Lady' in that particular picture).

So how do you handle 'the nothing'?

Here are some ways that have helped me:

• Focus on your breathing
  It's an oldie and sounds boring (no apps required), but it works…without batteries. Breathe through your nose and into your stomach – not into your chest. Grab that snorkel and go deep.
   
• Ask for rejuvenation
  Who are you asking? God, the universe, mother earth, your molecular structure, Big Daddy (whatever your preference). Me? I call him Warren. Having a 'team attitude' can take the pressure off this lonely experience, so asking for a leg up while lying down can move mountains.
   
• Pat your hamster
  This ('G' rated) tip appears in the free e-book you get when you e-subscribe (What do you mean you haven't e-subscribed? Are you crazy? See right hand side column of the blog site to rectify this situation immediately). In short, imagine your body as a nervous little hamster that needs gentle patting and is lulled into a state of bliss purely by your nurturing presence. It's a disassociation and visualisation exercise. Except the tip in the e-book is much funnier. 

• Stop worrying that you're not sleeping
  For us burnees, we equate having a lie down as a sleep opportunity. But if we are too keyed up to nod off, that's okay. Just lying down for a bit is helping your body immensely. Believe me.

Next post:

Grab your axe. We're gonna cull your friends.

Sound fun? You betcha!

This post was written by Megan Hills. Megan is a writer and cartoonist who believes in the power of… Find out more about Megan

Burnout recovery tip 1: The Helen Keller approach

It's been a month since I last wrote. I was going to apologise, but then thought 'Nah.'

I'm tired. You already know what that's like, I don't have to explain it to you.

So I imagine, chances are, you also understand the fatigue associated with apologising for not keeping up with the blogging/tweeting/typing 'Me! Me! Me!' sixteen times a day for the sake of "building strong online relationships and raising your Google ranking."

Let's raise our doodle ranking instead…

What our world has become

Your know those racing greyhound dogs who follow the fake rabbit around and around the circuit? Enough said.

This is an important point to burnout recovery:

Put some brakes on that fake rabbit. We've both got a pretty spiffy excuse already: "I'm burnt out". Why waste it on being a hyped-up, one-track animal who has forgotten the importance of the phrase, "Let sleeping dogs lie"?

Back to The Helen Keller approach

This is number one on my 'recovery things' list (there are twelve others: 13 things towards burnout recovery). Must admit, the title to this post is a bit misleading. Helen Keller worked hard to extend beyond her physical limitations and really optimise her senses. What a woman. My hat off to her.

But the lesson to burnout is…in a way…err….to stop extending beyond our physical limitations.  

Wow, that was really hard for me to write. I'll tell you why…

What my grandfather said

Apparently, my grandfather was fond of saying "Know your limitations". Over and over again. I don't remember this. He died when I was freaking out in nappies. But it's something that my father recounted for me. Over and over again.

This was not a story of fond nostalgia. The distaste in my father's tone while mimicking his father was palpable. And I understood why. It seemed like a pretty negative mantra to me, too.

My dad is well-known for his super-positive attitude – except when talking about his father. And he brought me up with the notion that I could do whatever I wanted (apart from watching the Brady Bunch and talking on their phone to my friends for longer than half an hour).

My father's voice saying "Megan, you can do anything!" still rings about my ears. Somehow that message translated in my brain to "Megan, you should do everything!". And so, no matter how much I experienced of the world, and no matter how positively I tried to embrace it, it never felt enough. 

But I don't regret extending beyond my limitations…

…and burning myself out to a cinder. I've had a pretty interesting life as a 'must do' maniac – using sight, sound, taste, smell and touch to the full and then some.

More importantly, this crazy life has led me here. To the point where it's become harder to move from chair to chair than it once was to move from country to country. And to the point where it's become much harder to see, hear, taste, smell and touch. 

The senses they don't talk about

Being burnt out is a time not to go 'beyond', but to go within. It is a chance to slowly discover the interior senses we generally don't explore. To achieve this you must have the desire to see, hear, taste, smell and touch clobbered right out of you.   

What are these 'interior senses'?

I don't even want to try and name them. The important thing is to allow yourself to go there and experience them for yourself, in your own way.

But there are some recommended guidelines. You must NOT:

• allow tradesmen into your home for long periods, if at all
• have TV, your iPod and/or small children turned on for long periods
• worry about Brad, Angelina or Jen
• play Guitar Hero as often as my brother does

You must instead:

1. find a quiet place
2. wrap yourself in cotton wool (not literally..then again…)
3. bunker down 
4. do nothing (zip, nada, diddly-squat)

I'm not saying you have to do this full-time. But to simply give this process a go. To be deaf, be dumb and to be blind. And to trust that, at that moment, appearing completely senseless is okay. 

Which leads me to my next post – Burnout recovery tip 2:The nothing 

I can't tell you when it is going to be published, but I know you already understand if it takes me awhile. 

This post was written by Megan Hills. Megan is a writer and cartoonist who now understands the power of closing her eyes, covering her ears and yelling 'La La Laaaaa!!!' every once in awhile. Find out more about Megan

The day everything changed…

As mentioned in my last post '13 Things towards recovery from burnout', I'm going to post, one-by-one, some key recovery tricks that I found useful. 

But before I start, I thought you might like to hear about my 'entry' into the world of burnout. It's kind of like getting born. I'm crying, I'm dribbing and I need a bath. And it's all happening in a big building with air-conditioning and fluorescent lights.

The reason for this was quite unspectacular.

I got a garden variety virus. Everyone in my office had it. Everyone in my building probably had it. What made me 'special' was that I didn't get over it in two days like everyone else. I got worse.

A preppy little miss in accounts relished the opportunity to tell me that the reason why I was still ill was because she had taken antibiotics and I hadn't. I didn't reply. But I did breath heavily on her in the hope of re-infection.

Actually, I had been taking antibiotics but it was for something really embarrassing. So I didn't go there. Even if it had meant I could've said 'So there'.

Anyway, the antibiotics wouldn't have helped fight the virus because it wasn't a bacterial inflection. I could have slogged her with that clever quip, but I didn't have the energy to think it through let alone articulate it.

Was this virus really the reason for my burnout?

No, it was just the final straw. Otherwise I would've bounced back in full song after two days like everyone else.

The viral symptoms developed into other symptoms:

• sheer bloody exhaustion that no amount of sleep would relieve
• short-term memory loss
• weeping both in public and in private, usually at the most inappropriate times
• complete lack of confidence in being able to work my way out of a wet paper bag (don't even mention organising a piss up in a brewery) 
• tingling skin (no, not the nice kind – the kind you have when you've just missed having a major car accident by a millisecond)
• having my libido lock itself in the bathroom 
• being a nervous nellie

The workplace

Let's go back to the scene of the crime. Not only was everyone in my office coming down with the lurgy, they were also highly stressed. All the time. Since I began right through to the day I left. And we all worked insanely long hours for very little pay.

I wasn't working in an emergency room in a city hospital. Nope. We're talking about a not-for-profit arts organisation. We opened exhibitions, operated a little shop, ran events and organised professional development opportunities for artists. Should have been a ball, but it was hell. Staff screamed and cried on a daily basis. And they weren't even artists.

I have a theory about workplaces: the more fun they look, the more likely they're not.  

But it was me who 'came down with' chronic burnout. The rest carried along with their 'milder' versions.

Were other workplaces any better?

I've spent much of my adult life wandering about in different careers:

Barista (and I don't even drink coffee), art gallery manager, voice-over 'talent' (yes, they call us that…God knows why), hospital IT phone support (that was scary – for everyone), library assistant, advertising sales hustler, art museum security officer in Italy ('Non toccare!' means 'Don't touch!', but try telling an Italian male that), graphic designer, magazine production editor, marketing officer for a funky craft and design NGO, bookshop assistant, and more.

While I've been generally praised for the level of my work, I didn't feel comfortable doing any of these jobs. Nothing felt right.

So I began to assume that there was something fundamentally wrong with me. And I just have to get used to feeling uncomfortable – and to get better at counting my blessings.

But is it just about my mopey view of the workplace?

Not according to various specialists in the field of burnout and chronic fatigue. Here are some other things they think have also factored into my particular mix:

• being under general anaesthetic in the last 12 months (prior to getting the office lurgy)
• having a history of glandular fever (way back in 1987)
• having a problem with my neck, particularly down the left hand side (yep, had that too)

The tingling skin symptom

The tingling skin was a cinch for the doctor (hybrid GP-naturopath) diagnosing me. 'Your adrenal glands are shot', he said as he swivelled on his office chair (or is that just how I remember it?). 

Because my adrenals were short then my central nervous system went down with them. And because all that's happening, messages are automatically being sent to the brain saying 'You can't run – you can't fight. Man, you are soooo screwed'. So the anxiety naturally kicked in.

Switching from body back to attitude

Of course, the big element to the my chronic fatigue diagnosis is being what they call a 'Type A' personality – otherwise known as an 'over achiever'. I like this bit. It makes me feel like I've actually achieved something. Well, for at least two seconds. Being a Type A personality means we are always feel we should be achieving MORE. We're very hard to satisfy, very picky. 

This makes us earnest employees, but our bodies begin to despise us. They have a picture of our minds on their respective dart boards. After awhile they're bound to get a bullseye. Then we go down…

I was advised to give up work for at least 3 months

'Ha!' I scoffed silently. And proceeded to work part-time. Then, after three months, I was forced to give up work completely. My body could barely get out of bed.

It had won.

Of course there's more to the mystery

I've since discovered that my body is hosting all kinds of infections and viruses – most of which are flying just under the radar of normal blood test results.

Scientists (when not distracted by the cloning of sheep and mangoes) are discovering more and more about viruses and how they are helping us form new relationships with our quilts and pillows.

What's it really all about, then?

But burnout (in whatever form) is not just about getting over viruses. We all know that. It's about changing the way we think, feel and do things.

Sometimes this change is intense and radical. Sometimes it's gradual and gentle. As long as the change is happening and for the better – for your mind, your soul AND your body – then you are on track to recovery. Believe it.

Perhaps my story is something like yours? Perhaps it's not.

Tell us what it was like when you first discovered you were burnt out (comment below).

This post was written by Megan Hills. Megan is a writer and cartoonist who is having increasing difficulty making the distinction between her mind and her body. And maybe that's a good thing. Find out more about Megan

My ‘13 things’ towards recovery from burnout

I've been shuffling around the edges of telling you my burnout story. My story 'unplugged' of being unplugged.

I didn't want this blog to be about 'the answer'. Because I believe everyone finds their own answer. Mine won't be the exactly same as yours, you see.

A woman told me that taking spirulena (algae) was the trick to her recovery. Unfortunately, spirulena did zip for me.

How Amber triggered this post

A woman by the name of Amber asked (via a comment) about my recovery after reading 'A funny thing happened on the way to burnout'. I gave a reply that was so long I was wondering if I should use it for a PhD thesis. Couldn't just say 'Rest, cups of tea and Lindt chocolate', though it might have been more helpful.

And for the record, I am not fully recovered. But I'm a lot better than I was.

The 13 things that really, really helped me towards recovery

Is having 13 things ominous? It certainly wasn't intentional. And I'm sure you can handle it.

1. The Helen Keller approach
   Stripping back stimuli and giving my senses a rest has been vital for my recovery. So the first thing I did after diagnosis of chronic fatigue was rennovate a house. Tradesmen with drills, nail guns and commercial radio filled my world. I almost died.
    
2. The nothing 
   Napping is one thing, just lying down is quite another. 
   
   
3. Culling friends
   Discovering that most of my friends rang to tell me their problems then hang up was not the easiest of revelations. Getting caller ID and simply not picking up the phone when a certain person calls was just the beginning….
    
4. Giggling like a schoolgirl
   My lead-like fatigue, combined with my unusual sense of humour, made finding things to lighten my spirit a challenge. But I put on my false nose and glasses and got on with the job of chortling. Key focus: comedy DVDs (and bad French films), Gary Larson cartoons and my partner dancing 'conceptually' to movie soundtracks.

5. Saying NO to "The NEW CURE for chronic fatigue!"
   Wear red undies (it's a chakra thing), drink this special berry juice from the mountains of Timbuktu (only $299 a bottle!), trampoline upside down, etc. There comes a point where it all gets too ridiculous. However, magnesium-calcium supplements, Chinese herbs, acupuncture, cranio-sacral osteotherapy and horribly painful massages have been the real deal for me. 
    
6. Scribbling rubbish
   Writing three pages of whatever comes into my head every morning (called morning pages) helps to make sense of things. It allows me to be myself (the boring, angry, cliche-riddled tired, tired, tired person that I am), and raises me out of myself, giving me a loving bird's eye view. Bloody miracle stuff.
    
7. Getting angry at Jeff
   I have this habit of swallowing my feelings of narky. Early in our relationship my partner, Jeff, noticed this – and decided it was his duty to push me to the point of hysteria.
    
8. Counselling, and then not going to counselling
   There's an art to spilling your beans to a stranger. Communing with the right counsellor for me was gold. Putting a hold on it at the right time was platinum.
    
9. Money and the lack thereof
   Nausea in my stomach was a standard CFS symptom – but I also felt sick about my credit card debt. Daily. I found a way to turn the money monster into a manageable acquaintance.
    
10. Rock 'n roll
    Glory to the iPod. Music regularly pushes me along the local running path. I may be running or I may be crawling – but as long as I'm moving to the music, there's hope.
     
11. Creative natter
    I've created two writers groups (and joined another) to chat about creative stuff. So talking the talk – even if I'm not walking the talk (or too tired to walk…go Google Groups), inspires me to wipe the drool off my chin and start constructing whole sentences, sometimes even articulately.  
    
    
12. Drugs
    A certain drug stopped the biological drama cycle that my adrenal glands have been gleefully conjuring on a daily (and nightly) basis for over seven years.  Enough already, pop the pill.
     
13. Chocolate…
    …and toast with jam, chips, blue cheese and runny brie, and alcohol. This had to be said. While we're busy being 'good', it's important to balance out with some 'bad' every once in awhile.

Want to know more?

The following 13 posts will deal with each of these steps is greater depth (or at least have more jokes). So stay tuned!

By the way…

No matter how many helpful tactics I insert into my life, those bloody curve balls keep coming. 

Just to keep the gods entertained, sometimes the answer for us can change. It often does for me. What works one week (or month or year), doesn't work the next.

Then I change again. And that's okay.

This post was written by Megan Hills. Megan is a writer and cartoonist who would like to point out that 13 is actually a lucky number in certain Asian cultures. Find out more about Megan

The great napping debate

'To nap or not to nap – that is the question'. Well, for some. Not for me – as my previous post: 'Secret confessions from my napping diary' yelled from the rooftops…and then left to lie down.

I appreciate that there are some in our community who feel they are unable to nap. Meanwhile there are some fundamentalist Awake-All-Day people who don't 'believe' in napping.
 

One for the skeptics

Here's just a bit of information about the value of napping from someone with 'Dr' in front of her name:

Confessions from my napping diary

To some, napping during the day may seem like a luxury. Not for me. Napping is a core survival tool. It's more important than email and my iphone. Quite a claim, I know. But there you have it. 

Napping has always been vital for petit moi, even before the chronic fatiguey burnout thing… 

A false start?

Kindergarten was fine. Naps were always taken post-lunch. Soothing nap music was selected, nap mats were neatly distributed across the floor (with pillow and blanket, if desired). Kindy teachers really know how to live. 

Primary torture

Primary school came as a shock, however. The soothing music screeched to a halt. The nap mat was ripped out from under us. After lunch, it was announced, we were to stay awake. No excuses. By 2.30pm, I was ready to tear my eye-balls out from their sockets. 

High School in Alcatraz

The agony continued into high school. I tried to sneak into an empty class room, curl up with some maps of the world, but was always clapped out by some sadistic, tartan-clad teacher with poorly designed spectacles (with compassion, the staff room didn't have a nap area either).

Utopia

University was heaven. No nap mats or soothing music, but finally I had a modus operandi. The red-bricked university library sat in the middle of campus, a silent oasis amongst the hubbub. With it's huge expanse and multiple levels, this sombre situ housed all manner of napping possibilities. The library staff went berko if you wanted a chat with a fellow student. But if you wanted to catch forty winks? Not a problem.

And it was in the library where I found my comrades, other nappers in quiet hiding. We would know each other, but never speak. Instead we slept like babies.

Then eventually, when ready, we'd rouse ourselves and stagger out – hopefully without souvenirs of the sandman or a snail train of dried saliva down our chins. For the first half hour (post-nap) we may have looked a little stoned. But so did everyone else.

Axis of evil: the workplace

After graduation came the workplace. The ultimate death trap for the napper. My campaigns for siesta rooms were never taken seriously. And I never had the kind of desk that one could curl up under without being noticed.

Note: open-plan offices should be outlawed. 

On the rare occasion, when it all become too much, I'd drive to work and spend my rent money on car parking. At these times I'd mumble 'going out – back soon' and escape to my old Honda sedan where a blanket and pillow would be waiting.

Miraculously, some irritating colleage would track me down to ask an 'urgent'  question. I'd gaze up through the window, bleary-eyed and confused. Eventually it would become clear I had been foiled again. With a hand print still noticeable across my cheek, I would start whimpering like an ageing beagle.

Once circulation had returned to my face, it was time to wander back into the office. The other staff would snigger at me and the boss would look deeply unimpressed before turning away in disgust.

I performed better than most of my colleagues, but was shamed for having a different natural biorhythm. It was out. I was a napper.

Where is the justice?

One must create one's own justice in The Land of Awake-All-Day people. Nappers are still a minority it seems. Or are the majority of folk out there in denial of their nap natures?

After decades of torture, I defected. I was forced to create my own society with a napping population of 2 (I have a cat).  Being a freelance writer means I can easily work from home. Oh, the joy.

This workplace where I live and love is also where I also nap. Whenever I want, wherever I want. And, yes, the iphone and email can wait. 

Take my Nap Around the World Tour

This post was written by Megan Hills. Megan is a writer and cartoonist who naps with pride. Find out more about Megan

Nap around the world tour

Closing your eyes in daylight is the new black. Public napping cubicles are being designed and installed around the world.

Airports and train stations appear to be the main driver of mini-sleep cubbies. But who knows where napping's true destination lies? And will these spaces of 'official napping' be the first port of call in the prevention of burnout?

Below are some designs for forty winks that I have found rather intriguing…

Russians in Dubai: The Sleepbox

This 2001 space odyssey design is the Sleepbox by Russian architects, Arch group.

Rumour has it Dubai airport is installing 50-70 of these babies. Peacefully sleeping babies, because each sleep box has a ventilation system, sound alerts, built-in LCD TV, Wi-Fi and sockets for a laptop and charging phones. Spiffy.

Canadians in USA: Minute Suites

            

   

• to have a traditional massage and esthetic table, or the YeloChair which elevates your legs above your heart so that your pulse slows down
• how you want your lighting – the color and intensity of their LED system
• from a wide variety of relaxing music and environmental sounds
• the most appropriate aromatherapy scent to fit your mood and desired effect

YeloSpa also have purified air, 500-thread count linens and soft cashmere blankets. I don't know about you, but say 'soft cashmere' to me and I immediately go gooey. 

The little red engine has a lot to answer for

The famous children's story of The Little Red Engine (first published in 1945 by Diana Ross – no, not the singer) saw the protagonist spending an awful lot of time working its way up a hill using the semi-positive affirmation “I think I can”. 

Here's how the story starts:

Once upon a time there was a little Red Engine and every day at seven o’clock it came out of its shed at Taddlecombe Junction to go on its journey.

Every morning as it passed, it whistled to its friends: little dog Hurry at Jubilee Cottages, Neddy the donkey at Callington Manor, the frogs, the sheep and the one-eyed gamekeeper’s cat.

It loved its job, travelling to new places, meeting lots of people and seeing exciting things. Then one day, the Little Red Engine didn’t arrive. It had never been late before, whatever could have happened? 

The Little Red Engine stopped pretending everything was a-okay and tickety-boo, is what happened.

The Little Red Engine is an archetypal burnout personality, if this beginning is anything to go by. Always prompt, always conscientious, always mindful of friends, family and colleagues. Always working up a bloody hill while puffing "I think I can".

Then one morning you discover you can't even get out of bed – for days. It's the ol' crash and burn story. We know it well.

'I can' vs. 'I think I can'

And, of course, burnees often spend time carrying a good dose of self-doubt. Or at least that's what the articles on burnout often tell us.

But saying "I think I can" rather than “I can” displays the kind of humility I admire. I would much prefer to hang out with an "I think I can" than someone who performs on a stage with a microphone strapped to their head like a sea creature (and a motivational best-seller sitting in self-help section), yelling "Yes, I can!". To me, this person's over-compensation indicates something important. If you need to yell 'Yes, I can' into a microphone then you have greater self-esteem issues than The Little Red Engine. 

President Barrack Obama got away with the "Yes, we can" speech because it was as clear as day that he was sending out the message: "Don't think it's all up to me, buddy".  

Is trying enough? 

Not according to Yoda. Yoda's famous phrase "Do or do not. There is no try" follows me everywhere. This is probably because my partner, Jeff, says it a lot around the house. And, yes, with 'the voice'.  He's actually quite good at it. And it does make me laugh, as long as I don't analyse what he's saying.

Instead, I imagine Yoda on a stage, complete with headset and free e-book, getting everyone in the galaxy to sing along to 'Simply the Best'.

So what am I really saying?

Can, can't. Who cares? Isn't the real question: WHY am I doing this?" Hauling my arse up some hill like the dutiful Little Red Engine. Conquering mountains, even, when the big boys fail. As harsh as it sounds: no, I don't care two hoots.

What do I care about, then?

There is a saying that resonates more than 'I can' or 'I think I can' or 'Yes, we can' or 'There is no try'.  

It is 'Live gently'. 

Living gently doesn't negate living with strength. In fact, the two are like one of those power couples you come across – self-assured, aware, compassionate, intelligent and with a delightful sense of humour.

They understand each others differences and how those differences make them even stronger when together. Brad and Angelina can't even touch these guys.

What saying resonates with you?

Share it with us (comment below).

This post was written by Megan Hills. Megan is a writer and cartoonist who does her darndest to reduce her thinking and doing. Find out more about Megan

Why the last post about intuition copped some flack

The last post, Vibe Queen gives unexpected answer to burnout, inspired some heated burnout discussion 'off the court'. The niggly bit came from the following passage:

"Whenever I read any introductory material about people with burnout, the inevitable criteria of 'long-term dissatisfaction' tends to crop up. It usually appears after the other inevitable criteria of 'long-term stress'."

Where I went wrong

A number of burnees explained to me that they haven't been dissatisfied with their work or how their life was generally travelling. They believe the problem was simply working too hard for their poor minds and bodies to cope.

This response makes perfect sense

Those professions with the biggest burnout stats are teachers, nurses, doctors, people who work in emergency services, law enforcement and communications, government employees, those who work in NGOs (not-for-profit organisations) – and people like me, who work for themselves. Also, mothers should be added to that list.

These people have a strong emotional connection to what they do for a living. So there is logic here. Many burnees have already listened to their intuition and feel good – not disillusioned – about their general purpose.

If you have burnout but are not on this list…

…don't panic. It doesn't mean you are in the wrong profession. This list is just scratching the surface. As Mark Twain said, "All generalisations are false – including this one."

Maybe CEO's of multinationals suffer from burnout, but they are too enshrined in gold for anyone to notice. 

So you are passionate, not disillusioned.

Maybe we can broaden the theory. Perhaps we can say that it is your body that is disillusioned. 

In other words, your intuition is smart enough to tell you that you are following your bliss. But it might also be smart enough to tell you that your body is not feeling quite so passionate. 

Let me tell you about one of the best weeks of my life

Extraordinary note: this particularly fabulous week didn't involve sex or drugs (just a tipple or two of cab sav).

I was invited to a week-long writer's retreat on a sub-tropical island. It was a private affair, organised by a writer friend who had two other buddies with a bent for words. Remarkably, every one of us had some serious health issue. So my chronic fatigue blended nicely into the woodwork. 

My friend happened to own a glorious, multi-bedroomed abode on the island, looking directly over the sea. This pad was so beautiful that, when I walked through the open native-timbered front door, I wept with happiness.

My company was as comforting and inspirational as my surrounds. We shared our scribbles, received encouraging feedback and wrote some more. And ate and drank, and ate an drank.

Another extraordinary note: We managed to keep to drinking tea during the day – the tipples of cab sav were reserved for the evening (or white wine if in the hot tub).   

But here's the thing…

With every day of creative inspiration came a reduction in my energy levels. My body didn't know the difference between excitement and negative stress. Why? Because my adrenal glands are designed to 'activate' in the same way for both.

Excitement can be debilitating

As the week of inspiration continued, I was increasingly having to disappear off to bed for long naps. And then stay there to write. The idea of taking a break to wander along the golden beach by the gently lapping waves became less and less attractive.

Instead I began writing about old people in slippers who have trouble with stairs.

When the week was drawing to a close, one of the others sighed into her wine glass and said 'I wish we could stay another week'. The other two agreed. I replied, 'If I stayed another week, I will end up in hospital – on a drip in a coma ward.'

Which makes following my passion a problem.

But that's just me

This is what happens to people whose adrenal glands and central nervous system are all shot to ribbons.

What about you?   

When embarking on something that inspires you, how much can your body handle?

If you leave a comment about it, I promise to do my best to contain my excitement.

This post was written by Megan Hills. Megan is a writer and cartoonist who has always had a tendency to get over-excited. You should have seen her in kindergarten. Find out more about Megan.

Vibe queen gives unexpected answer to burnout

When picturing the 'vibes' of someone with burnout, it's hard not to think of porridge. Gluggy, week-old, stone-cold porridge.  

You know vibes, don't you? Otherwise known as 'vibrations'.

Human vibrations are mostly accepted in our general society via the comment 'I got a bad vibe from that guy'.

If you say that you got a good vibe from someone, people will probably think you're fresh from the 70's and high on weed. Or perhaps from the sixties, singing 'Good Vibrations' on some fun-lovin' Californian beach.

Wouldn't it be nice…

'Intuition' is a more accepted term these days. Women seem to have cornered the market on intuition. We promote 'women's intuition' as if it's the only kind. News flash: men can have intuition too. Children and animals seem to roll around in the stuff. 

About Sonia Choquette, The Vibe Queen

Sonia Choquette has written a number of books on the topic of vibes and intuition, including: Trust Your Vibes (2004, Hay House), in which she says early in the piece (on page 9):

"We human beings are exhausted these days, and not getting enough rest is death to our vibes. When you look up 'intuition' in the dictionary, you'll notice that one definition is 'to notice' and another is 'to pay attention'. When you're so sleep deprived that it's difficult to focus on what's right in front of your nose, chances are you won't notice much on the subtle psychic plane of energy either…"

In other words, us burnout folk are screwed on all levels of consciousness.

Not the happiest of news, I admit.

But it explains why we feel like idiots most of the time. Burnout sees us stumbling around, trying to do the simplest things and often failing.

And even with toothpicks prising open our eyelids, we still miss what's going on with the people around us.

It's bloody frustrating. We know we're not this stupid. We know we're not this self-centred. Well, not usually.

Sonia has a suggestion, bless her.

Sonia continues further, "…One of the most practical suggestions for activating your sixth sense (intuition) is to 'sleep on it' when looking for guidance. My teacher Charlie Goodman once explained to me that sleep allows the emotions to rest and the spirit to wake up."

Sage advice, but a good night's sleep doesn't stop my dependably foggy brain in the morning. Not like it does for healthy humans. Tragically, not even a week of sleep will do it. God knows, I've attempted the marathon nap challenge – more than once.

The unexpected answer

It's not until close to the end of Sonia's 'Trust Your Vibes' book (way down on page 231) where I see a beacon of light for my intuitive self.

"…As my teacher Dr Tully often said, 'Sometimes the most powerful thing you can do is nothing." What I've humbly come to understand after experiencing 44 years of intuitive living is that just because we're not doing something doesn't mean something isn't being done. Something is being done behind the scenes in the unseen realm, and we need to make room for it."

Nothing? Yep, I can do that.

Is this what burnout might actually be about? 

Explaining this light bulb moment

My thoughts? Maybe intuition is really a nerd-turned-thug.

Whenever I read any introductory material about people with burnout, the inevitable criteria of 'long-term dissatisfaction' tends to crop up. It usually appears after the other inevitable criteria of 'long-term stress'. 

So I'm thinking, maybe…just maybe…with all that stress and dissatisfaction, intuition doesn't get much of a look in. It's pushed into the corner by the elbows of 'I have to do this' and 'I better do that'.  

Intuition is winded from all the shoving. It's spectacles are broken – again. And, after years of bullying, intuition starts to get seriously pissed off. Intuition begins training at the gym and taking boxing classes. 

So what's intuition doing now?

Intuition now has you pinned down so hard you can barely move. It's talking to you but you're having trouble hearing what's it's saying. You're too dazed from that surprise left hook.

What's going to happen?

Intuition knows you will come to your senses in time. All six senses.

Intuition knows that, one day, you will hear what it has to say. And it will keep you pinned down until you get your hearing back. 

Well, okay. It's only a theory. But what do you think? Have you started talking nicely to your intuition? How about listening to it?

Maybe the sooner we rest and listen, the sooner we'll be back on our feet and start speaking articulately about something. What a novel thought.

By the way, thanks for listening. 

This post was written by Megan Hills. Megan is a writer and cartoonist who often turns things she's afraid of into things she can laugh at. She just didn't think she would turn something she's not afraid of (like intuition) into a thug. Find out more about Megan.