My (Overachieving) Burnout Recovery To-Do Lists
I don’t know about you, but sometimes I want to read a person’s story and other times I just want to listen to their voice. I get it! That’s why I’ve also created an audio version of this blog. Enjoy them both! Flic x
Why bother having burnout for just a weekend if, instead, you can ignore all warning signs, then proceed to run, stamp and crush yourself into the ground, ensuring you have burnout for a week, a month, or even a whole fucking year?
Messed up? I know.
I'm an Overachiever. Over and out.
I was beginning to wonder if I'm a bit of a whack job. Broken.
Hang on a minute, that's not very nice, is it? The inner critic is playing it large today. Let me start again.
I'm observing that I don't know how to slow down; I don't know how to embrace calm. Like, not a fucking clue.
But one thing I do know is how to write a good list. A list overflowing with back-breaking goal striving tasks. These tasks are mighty, well researched, and destined for glory. They take the glass half empty (let’s make it a pint…of gin), sit it next to Niagara Falls and let it flood and fill. It’s all fun and games until the glass smashes and sends shards of glass flying everywhere. No one is safe now.
And so this is where the recovery list goes horribly wrong. You probably saw it coming, didn’t you?
Truth be told, my pint glass and reactionary eye roll share the same opinion to this recovery list I drew up last year when I first realised I was driving into burnout town.
The social media hustle culture posts from a few years ago encouraged me to think I was a lazy-arse. A good-for-nothing utter failure because I struggled to sustain working 16 hour days while raising a family. I used to think I was such a loser. Now I see these posts are an absolute bloody liability.
Journal reflections are my saviour.
There wasn't a lot I could do for myself when I was slumped on the bathroom floor, believing everyone would be a lot bloody better off if I wasn't around. But thankfully, the one thing I could do and needed to do, and thank fuck, did do...was write.
My saviour.
Every day I clutched my journal and carried it around with me like Linus and his li’l blue blanket from Peanuts. I would write when I first woke up and would continue to reflect and note things down throughout the day. Pages full. Full of reflections, pain, hurt, confusion and honesty—along with the odd teacup ring and biscuit crumb.
I now see something very clear when I read back through those journal entries.
You see, I drew up an overachieving burnout recovery to-do list following my second doctor's appointment regarding my wellness. At this point, mental ill-health had manifested in physical symptoms. When she asked me to update her in on my situation, my conversation went something along the lines of: "Yes, I'm good. I'm fine. Bit tired. Bit blue. But you know, it's just been a shit couple of years. Not the best time. Not the best year. I'm okay, though. I write about mental health for a living, so surely I will know when I lose my own. Hahahahaha."
Famous. Fucking. Last. Words.
I left her office, went home, put the kettle on and wrote a recovery to-do list. The last thing I can afford to do is burnout and not work. I mean, that would just be silly! Wouldn’t it?
So, stand aside for my overachieving burnout recovery to-do list. I bloody love a good list—except for the first one, dated September 2019. It is nothing short of bonkers. And I'm sharing it in case it helps you to slam on the brakes and take better care of yourself. And if, and, when you do, I highly recommend you look over the second burnout recovery self-care plan version at the end.
Take it from me, a plan full of wisdom, as opposed to fear, is always going to be a winner. No shit, Sherlock.
September 2019
Time to get on top of all this. Chin up, tits out. Get a grip. Recovery, here I come.
Flic’s burnout recovery to-do list
Version 1.0 (Numbered, but in no order of preference. Hear any irony alarm bells ringing for this one?)
Quit coffee. You're a vibrating heart palpitating hot lovin' mess. Quit it. Goodbye, four coffees a day. Hello, juice cleanse. Yes, let’s embrace a juice cleanse. Instead of going to bed early, exhausted, I’ll nip out and buy a juicer and a ton of fruit and veg. Throwing money and vegetables at anything will be the ultimate fix.
While you're quitting coffee, let's do sugar too. Eating that family sized box of Jaffa Cakes, was not your finest moment. That's not normal. And doesn’t subscribe to the family “sharing is caring” mantra. Go cold turkey and nail these bastard sugar cravings. Besides, you’re old enough to know that a daily breakfast should consist of whole grains and fruits, not Malterasers and extra-large cappuccinos.
While I'm mentally taking inventory of my fridge contents, I think it would also be good to go plant-based. And lessen the carbs. If I do need carbs, then maybe it's best if I just made my own bread? Yes, I’ll add that to the list.
I'm going to set my alarm and get up 2 hours earlier to fit in more work. I will now start my writing day at 4 am. This will give me time to get a good draft written up before sorting the boys out and tackling the morning tornado of the school run. I can now get more done in the day and relax in the evenings as opposed to working. Yes, let's start the working day earlier. That's the fix right there. Less sleep, more work. Nailed it.
Become detached from all feeling and emotion in writing. Line manager has told me my writing voice is too fluffy, too warm, too conversational. I must step back and stop caring about my reader so much. This week's worklist is to write brochure copy on mental health support in the workplace along with four articles touching on: being addicted to busyness, setting workplace boundaries, the importance of taking a mental health day, and the dangers of stress. I will present the facts. SEO metrics met. Boxes checked. Line manager will be happy. I will then breathe.
I will exercise every day to get rid of the stress-induced cortisol surging throughout my body. It's non-negotiable. My wellness is now another bloody thing to go on the to-do list as opposed to it being something I wish to do for myself.
I will learn yoga. My friend looks amazing on it. Yes, daily yoga will do the trick! Buy the app, the mat, the whole bloody lot. Chant om. Namaste.
I will learn to skip for cardio benefits. I'll be like Rocky, except with a post-kids dodgy pelvic floor. A pissy pant version of Rocky Balboa with the cardio levels of a teen. Done and dusted.
I will take a daily bath in Epsom salts—even if exhausted and just want to sleep. There is something in the salts, apparently. I'll catch up on sleep post burnout recovery.
My boys have recently taken to painting and drawing. I'm so proud of them and love to sit and chat with them while they create. I used to love being creative too. Maybe I can start painting again and work alongside my boys. I'll reduce daily Epsom salt bath to 25 minutes to add in a bonus 30 minutes of painting to my day. Bingo.
I will meditate and try to tune into my intuition again. I have lost connection with myself. It's hard to be a cold machine at work and a constant human giver at home. I can't hear anything from my intuition now. Shh!
On that note, I'll start to pull a daily tarot card to see what they can tell me. Is pulling the death card meant to be ironic? Are these cards taking the piss?
I've looked into adrenal health issues and have decided that eating dates will be the answer. Yes, a gob full of dates will surely knock this depleted energy right out of the park.
I read an article on the benefits of double cleansing. I'll do this every night since I’m now looking very pale and very drab. You know it's bad when you get a senior discount on your last drug store trip to buy tampons. WTF? What if I was to triple-cleanse? Yes, I will triple cleanse (just to be sure) and then triple moisturise to counteract the overboard cleansing that may dehydrate every single fucking pore.
On that note, I need a head-to-toe makeover as I’m now on a ton of Zoom meetings throughout the day and no matter what hour it is, I look like a woman possessed.
Shit! I discover that nothing fits in my wardrobe anymore—stress makes me eat ALL the biscuits. I'll do a wardrobe cleanse and list all my 'too tight' clothing items on eBay to sell. It shouldn't take me too long to do that?
After I close my laptop at night, I'll do a load of laundry, cook dinner and do some some cleaning. This is a good plan so as not to feel so overwhelmed and drained at the weekend. Driving to all the boys' sports games is busy enough for my weekends.
And then there’s the gift giving. Oh fuck, Christmas is in three months. I will need to sort out all gifts. I will shop and ship for my own family overseas so I don’t miss the postage cut-off dates this year. Next up, it's thinking about what my boys' want this year and buying for my husband’s family. Then there's the friends, the kids' friends, the neighbours, the teachers, the school bus driver. I haven’t even peeked at the birthday calender yet. I think I’m going to need a spreadsheet.
I've been offered a few new freelance writing contracts. Maybe, the old English proverb is right, and a change is as good as a rest? I will go against the pain in my lower gut and take one. No, be strong, take on two new contracts.
September 2020
I just got off a call with my doctor as I'm starting to really feel unwell now, both physically and mentally. I’ve never felt so broken.
My doctor said, "Stop, stop right now."
I did.
Version 1.0 recovery burnout list clearly did not solve all my problems. My doctor and I drum up a new care plan together.
I quit my job. I lay in bed for three weeks. I cried a lot. Simple things like taking a shower felt like I was climbing Mount Everest. I had just enough strength to pretend everything was fine to those outside of my circle and just enough to admit that I absofuckinglutely wasn't with those inside my circle.
My last ounce of strength was spent writing a revised burnout recovery self-care plan that I would look at and show up to every day. This was no longer a 'nice to have in my life' list. This was a do or die list. It went something like this:
Flic’s revised (thank fuck for that!) burnout recovery self-care plan
Version 2.0 (Numbered, but in no order of preference. I think we all give a sigh of relief for this one.)
Breathe. Then take another deep breath. Good? I thought so, take another. Keep going. Just breathe.
Sleep. Why are you belittling yourself for taking a nap? Get some sleep and do not criticise yourself for needing 12-14 hours at the moment. You spent years and years of surviving off bloody 4. Rest, recuperate, recover. That is all.
Go out in nature as often as possible. Sit in the garden. Pay attention to the sounds, the gentle sensory experiences. You always feel so much better listening to the leaves rustle in the breeze. Mother nature soothes you right now.
Alcohol is not your friend. Watch when and why you're drinking. Don't be scared to feel the feelings. Numbing them will only delay the healing. (*Note to self: must write a post about my badger who likes to get drunk and piss over the neighbour's fence)
Read. Who cares if all you did last week was read books and sleep? You spent years not doing anything for yourself, starving yourself of pleasure and joy. Read the fucking books. Absorb the words that shift your perspective. Devour their ability to heal. Escape to their core and allow it to transform and revive your magic.
Don't question or doubt yourself or your writing. Write for you, not for others. Dr. Susan David, author of Emotional Agility, says, "free yourself to create music, not applause." It's okay that you've turned down contracts. It's okay that you've declined offers that are signposted “burnout land”. You chose YOU. And darling, that's the best choice you could make right now.
On that note, use your savings and accept the help offered. Money cannot buy everything. It certainly cannot buy your health. You and your family are the priority here. There is no point in having the latest retail distraction or desire if you are stuck in bed, unable to breathe or enjoy it.
Say "NO" and bloody well mean it. Set boundaries with conviction. Explain to others why you're marking out boundary lines in the sand. If there is still resistance, cut the ties. You cannot afford to give energy to others if it is not reciprocal and lacks respect. Say no. Even better, say, "Hell, FUCK NO".
Be honest. Tell husband you're really struggling now. Show your teen boys that it’s tough but it’s going to be okay. Show them what it means to overwork and give too much to too many. Show them what it means to stop, rest, reach out to others, and ask for help. Show them what it means to love, be loved and to have some hope wrapped up in love. You want them to see this, so they hopefully never do this to themselves. It would smash my heart into smithereens to think they would ever find themselves sitting on a bathroom floor, believing the world would be a better place without them. It's so painful to write those words. I'm sobbing at the prospect they would come close to feeling this kind of pain. They deserve much more in life. They deserve to grow and blossom into their full potential. They are a gift to the world. But I've learnt that at the core of every great seed, often lies discomfort. This discomfort has to—and can— be dealt with and lived with. Without it, epic growth rarely happens. During these times, I want my boys to know I will always be there to sit with them, hold their hand, remind them they are loved. Wherever possible, I will take the bullshit off their fucked up life list. Grow my darlings, grow. I’m in your corner. I've got you.
With eyes forward and heart open, show yourself and others the warmth, compassion and humanity we all need right now. Clickbait in three paragraphs is bullshit, especially when it comes to mental health. That's why I'm throwing bucketloads of honesty onto this page. It's the only way. I have to stop; I have to listen; I have to feel; I have to nurture myself while I recuperate. Maybe you do, too?
Stop! No one move. No one break anything!
I'm feeling so much better these days. I've taken matters into my own hands. I stood on a chair, shouted out to my bag of badgers and told them all to pack it in. As my lovely insta mate, Maxine, says: Stop! No one move, no one break anything! Let's just take this nice and slow.
Have you got a list? Go look at it. Try to take some items off it. Then go look at it again and find some more items to remove.
Do whatever feels good, and then do that again. No one could possibly write and set the rules for burnout recovery or living your best life. Do it your way. But the most important thing is that you start.
My badgers have been busy the past couple years drinking all the wine, eating all the biscuits and causing some mighty fucked up mental and physical chaos resulting in unhelpful recovery to-do lists. I’m taking things slower and they need a bloody rest.
Enough now. Back in that bag you bloody well go, my li’l badgers. I've got a much better to-do list tucked safely into my bra, held close to my heart
Flic x
P.S. If you know a woman struggling with #everydayburnout please send her this article and tell her from me that she is not alone.
Burnout and feeling as mad as a bag of badgers can really isolate you, and the one true thing I needed on my lowest of low days was to not feel so lonely.
I see you out there, Sista. Please hold on. It does get better.
