Another Day, Another Burnout Revelation

I Should Write a Book About My Obsession With Overwhelm

Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash

Life is not weird enough for me. I need funky sarcasm and unapologetic cynicism. And then I also need some tissues.

I’m emotional and I blame the current sun in Cancer.

I’m disgruntled and I blame my Aquarius ascendant.

I’m lonely and I blame my delusional Mercury in Pisces.

I’m many things that I offset accountability to forces outside of me. For the past 6 months, I’ve been running like a drunk hamster on a broken wheel and then wondering why I have infected callouses.

An existential breakdown coupled with suicidal ideations will spook the best of us and now that I am on the other side of sanity, I miss the comforts of living an unawakened life.

I’ve spent months without breathing, dedicating myself to a position with people who couldn’t match my output or commitment. Managing up (two levels) will radicalize any exploited worker who finally realizes that their success relies on the dissolution of healthy boundaries.

I took a position that was well below market rate, but I was so desperate to leave a toxic work environment that I didn’t see I was leaving one prison to enter another.

I chose to spend 2 hours commuting every morning.

I chose to arrive 45 minutes before my shift.

I chose to stay 3 hours past my call-out time.

I choose to spend another 2 hours commuting after work.

11-hour work days, plus 4 hours of commuting, was always unsustainable.

I did it because it allowed me to escape my OCD mind only to embrace a martyr season of overwhelm and exhaustion.

Eventually, I burned out and my desire to make an impact was replaced with resentment.

I love working with students. It’s the adults that make me re-examine my place in the world.