Burnout And Birth

I wouldn’t have taken the whole thing so very seriously but fortunately others did. I came back from the UK last Tuesday and after having dropped my suitcase to my apartment I went straight to the office. I thought I was well enough to continue working just like before and that I could ignore the fact that I still wasn’t sleeping nor eating and that I had to battle dramatic mood swings daily. It was my auntie who raised the issue and spoke to I. (without me knowing about it) and called doctors and was generally very upset and concerned. I preached on Saturday morning in a small church and realised in the middle of my sermon that I was utterly empty, I didn’t even feel the usual adrenaline rush. OK, I took a mental note, it does feel like I might need a break. By Sunday I had come up with a plan and had summoned enough courage to ask I. if I could take the following weekend off. We’re not talking about a weekend here, I. replied, you need to take two weeks completely off, you need to go and see a doctor, you need a sick leave, and you need to deal with your problems. We’ll reschedule all your preaching and other work-related appointments, he said, and you are off to a vacation. He sounded quite resolute.

So here I am. I’m on a sick leave for two weeks with a burnout diagnosis. Never has this happened to me before.

If you had seen me on Monday morning, you would have laughed. I sat on my bed in my pajamas, totally serious and in a business mode. I had my phone in one hand and my calendar and a pen in the other. OK, I thought, how do we deal with this? This is serious burnout business here. We need a plan. So. First, call your GP. Second, call the psychiatrist your auntie has recommended you. Third, write a masseuse. Fourth, write your cousin and ask if his summer house is free and available over the weekend. Fifth, see if any of your friends are able to hang out with you or speak to you. I did all these things and now I have a glorious strategy to tackle my burnout and also to make the best out of these two weeks.

I will have the appointment with my GP on Friday (which really means that the length of my sick leave is still unsure). I have seen the psychiatrist (it just so happened that she had had a last minute cancellation and she was able to see me in two hours instead of two months – this is what I call A God Thing) and I’ve got the medicine I needed. I’m going to a masseuse tomorrow morning – as I hear from M, he’s the best masseuse in the entire world. :) I have been hanging out with my friends (or calling the ones who are far away) every day. Yesterday a friend invited me over for a lunch and I decided to walk to her place. I knew it was far – on the other side of the town – but I didn’t quite realise the distance until it had taken me more than two hours to get there. It was 15 kilometers, Google Maps told me later. But that was fine because I apparently have ALL the time in the world in my hands now, there is no need to hurry. I read books I brought with me from the UK. I try to eat. Tomorrow afternoon I’m off to Tartu, getting there just when my cousin’s family is leaving the country. They have gladly promised to give me the keys of both their lovely Tartu apartment (my home) as well as their summer house (my paradise). I intend to spend the whole week living there.

Burnout is a terrible thing for anyone to happen. It is a place of darkness and despair. Future seems a big black hole, meaningless and hopeless. Voices in your head keep telling you you should have been stronger, that you’re weak and unworthy, and in the end, no-one really cares. You shout to God and hear only silence. You struggle with the most simple daily things, like eating a breakfast. But it is also a time of rebirth and rediscovery – once again you realise that many actually do care, that people love you and pray for you. It is also the time for you to realise that the world keeps turning without your help. Things get done without you pushing yourself to the limit. And even if some things are left undone, no great harm comes from it. It is the time you rediscover the pleasure and beauty of simple things – of a couple of hours of deep sleep, of your favourite music, of a phone call from a friend you haven’t seen for too long, of long walks, of the strength of your muscles when you are well enough to hit the gym again (this morning). Of a friend who doesn’t say one condemning word when you call her on Good Friday and tell her you’re not up to going to church that evening. Of an auntie who calls you every second day. Of good books you can drown your sorrows into for a couple of hours at a time. Of God who keeps suffering with you.

Do say a prayer for me. But also, be glad for me. Rebirth is a reason for gladness and gratitude.