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 shot 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

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