Burning out, taking care

I don’t want to write about burnout.

I don’t want to write about self care.

I don’t want to reiterate and review what we all understand, not only as social workers but as parents trying to maintain some normalcy for our children; as professionals attempting to be effective and innovative with new work challenges; as adults navigating how to safely socialize with our loved ones. I don’t want to acknowledge that I have hit a wall because we are six months into a global pandemic and in the midst a political horror show and I have two little kids and three jobs and it’s honestly just too much.

The thing is, it’s not hard to write about burnout and self care: they have become meme-ified and pop cultured to death. There are articles and BuzzFeed lists and Tik Toks (I would imagine; I’m too old for Tik Tok) that explore these topics. But because the internet eventually blunts the edges of nuance from anything, these concepts feel more like buzz words than complicated and fraught issues. But there is nuance to be found. There are levels of burnout; there are different forms it takes, different ways it manifests, not just in our professional lives but in our personal lives. There are ways to talk about self care, too, that are complicated, that force us to consider the complicated nature of society and privilege, that go beyond “make sure you’re getting your 8 hours of sleep a night!” There may be nothing new, exactly, for me to say about burnout and self care, but here I am. Again.

I am tired. I am tired of a pandemic that has robbed me of the most basic joys of my life: overscheduling our weekends with out of town visits and parties and tertiary friends. I am tired of a political discourse that is disappointing at best and disgusting at worst. I am tired of a scary and unknown future that awaits us with climate change and racial violence and injustice. I am tired of the news, every day, of people in power doing the objectively wrong thing. I am tired of checking off the box on my psychosocial assessment that says I provided education about self care to the patient and their family. Did I do that? Did the words ring hollow? They ring hollow in my own mind so I imagine they aren’t coming across full of vitality and assuredness.

I am sleeping; I am eating; I am exercising (kind of; running up the stairs twenty times a day counts, right?). I am doing the self care things but I am still in the burnout place. That’s why I keep returning to these concepts. It is not as easy as saying “treat yourself” and getting a pumpkin coffee. Self care is complicated and difficult because the majority of us cannot just turn off. In fact, I know I’m luckier than most. I can’t write about self care and burnout without also acknowledging my great privilege. When I am exhausted, I have a partner who can pick up the home and kid slack. Although I am enraged by the lack of justice for my Black brothers and sisters who have been murdered by police, my whiteness allows me to be only angry, not traumatized. When I have reached my limit at work, I can schedule an easy day or call out sick. But I am still struggling.True self care does not feel possible in this environment. I keep thinking to myself, there is a way to be restored. But what is it? How do I find it?

This is the part where I should review the signs of burnout and tell you some of my favorite self care tips. But I don’t think that’s what we’ll do today. Instead, I want to thank you for reading; I feel better after the words are out of my head and released into the world. And I want to say, too, that I think it’s ok to hit the wall once in awhile. Sometimes doing the best you can is to let go of the best and just, you know, do.

Be well this week; I’m certainly trying to be and I hope you are as well.