Sometimes, Flowers Make Me Cry

Dear reader(s),

It’s been a year since I posted about my job burnout. I ended up being away on medical leave from mid-May to mid-July 2023. When I returned, I worked 3 days per week (instead of 5) for the rest of July and August as part of a gradual return to work plan. The first 4 weeks of my leave, I spent mostly sleeping. My doctor warned me about this. She explicitly told me that my time off was for rest. Not projects or productivity, but rest. (Clearly, she has me figured out). Just like I needed permission to take time away from work, I also needed permission to rest. 

Writing the blog post about my burnout was cathartic. At the time, I thought, “maybe someone else is experiencing the same thing.” I thought, “maybe it'll help someone.” When I posted it, I had been on leave for 3ish weeks. I had only told my immediate family, a few friends, and the colleagues who would be looking for me. When I wrote the post, I wasn’t sure if I would ever publish it. Even though rationally, I knew I needed the break, I still felt guilty for taking the time and ashamed that I let the world diminish me. If I’m being completely honest, posting was a bit of a cop out. I was still trying to justify my leave to myself and was not in a space where I could handle any negative or judgmental comments about it. To be clear, the only person who expressed negative thoughts about my leave was me, but sometimes those internal thoughts are the loudest.

The response to my post was overwhelming; in the best way. I forgot, which is a core flaw of mine, that people might actually read the post. And that the people who read it might care about me; they might even love me. They might message me, text me, call me, or even drop by my house. Truthfully, I spend so much time thinking about and looking after other people that I often forget to look after myself...hence the burnout.

Friends, colleagues, acquaintances, and relatives told me stories of similar experiences, checked in, or simply wished me well. A former SLP classmate gave me a recommendation for a book on burnout to read later on when I was no longer experiencing burnout. My friend, Tim, stopped by my house one afternoon with a gorgeous bouquet of flowers and a firm hug. The whole visit took maybe 5 minutes. The second he left, I burst into tears. It was like he had opened my emotional floodgates. Even though I'd been off work and resting, I still felt so numb. Like I was going through the motions of being a real person: I slept, I ate healthy, I worked out, I walked my dogs. If I felt anything at all, it was fatigue, guilt, and shame.

Flowers in hand, I cried in almost every room in my house. Not intentionally. I went downstairs to find a vase for the flowers and cried there. I went to the kitchen to put the flowers in the vase and cried there. I decided to shower and cried in the bathroom. I cried in our bedroom as I got redressed. I sat in the spare room, in my great grandmother's chair to try and process my feelings, and cried there. Not wracking sobs, just a continual stream of tears. The only room I didn't cry in was our home office (in hindsight, I wish I had, I would have completed the full set). When Drake came home after work, I was still crying. We had plans and places to be. I thought he'd panic or rush me, but he didn't. Instead, he looked relieved. He told me he'd, “been waiting for this.” For my emotional come down; the completion of this huge and horrible stress cycle I'd been locked in. (Which I now understand after reading the Burnout Book. Thanks for the recommendation, Alanna!).

When I went back to work, I promised myself I'd take better care of me. I requested an assignment change within my SLP department. I'd been in the same program for the past 5 years and I hadn't realized how much I needed something different. I no longer dread coming to work. I finally read the burnout book: "Burnout: The Secret to Unlocking the Stress Cycle" and started actively thinking about stress cycles and closing them. I'm still prioritizing rest, eating healthy, and working out. It just feels less forced now. I started actively looking for "glimmers." The opposite of triggers, glimmers are "tiny micro moments of joy—fleeting, everyday moments that elicit a rush of happiness, gratitude, calm, peace, safety, or goodwill" (taken from Neurodiversity Education Academy, 2023). I'm making an effort to have consistent boundaries and to say "no" to things that drain me or spread me too thin, both personally and professionally. I'm checking in with my therapist regularly to ensure I'm coping in healthy, positive ways.

But still, sometimes I catch Drake watching me or checking in to make sure I'm not taking on too much. Total good spouse behavior, but it makes me feel terrible. Like I'm another thing added to his load. I couldn't be trusted to look after myself, so now he has to do it for me. When we've talked about this, he's reminded me that he's watching because he loves me and he needs to reassure himself that I'm okay. I expect with some time, we'll find ourselves less on guard and more at ease. For now, we'll keep doing what we can.

Thank you to everyone who reminded me that I am loved, respected, and supported. It is hard for me to receive compliments; and being loved is the best, hardest compliment of all. Please keep reminding your people that you love them. It's easy for us to forget. And sometimes flowers make us cry.

Best,

Laura