I found the magic

I’m coming out of the worst burnout I’ve ever experienced in my life. I didn’t know whether I would ever be okay. Actually, I still don’t know. All I know is that my self-esteem took a dark and deep dive, getting out of bed was a fight, and being happy was a near impossibility.

What was supposed to have been one mental health day became three, with the weekends becoming safe havens where avoiding responsibility was okay. I know I’ll have to face what I had left behind eventually, but for now, I need to heal. And I need time to do so.

Throughout this recovery period – and looking back, every time I have ever felt overwhelmed and stressed – I gravitated to things that felt like soft, gentle sunlight. This included Disney music. And, ever so slowly, I started to feel a little bit better.

Of course, other things helped: genuine human kindness, a loving and supportive family, friends and people who check in with me, chocolate, journalling, meditation, and actual rest. This all involved vulnerability in all of its terrifying forms, but it’s been worth it. I’m starting to feel like myself again.

You know, people don’t like to talk about what happens when we fall. It’s glossed over, breathed out in half a sentence, only to make room for the booming roar of triumph that encompasses the whole “and then I got back on my feet” speech – which is always way more inspirational. But it’s always way more general, and way less genuine. I think that’s because it’s easy to talk about getting back up. Of course it is! It’s way more empowering and makes us look good. I’m reading Brene Brown’s Rising Strong, and she talks about how dangerous it is to focus more on the getting up than what happens when we fall.

Because we all fall down. It’s inevitable as human beings to strive towards something we care about, something bigger than us. And it’s inevitable that along the way, we’re going to fail. There’s no going around it. So, what happens when we fail, when we fall?

For me, the above happens. I burn out. But before that, I put others’ needs before my own, I neglect my personal truth, and I forget my why. And my why holds on to what I find most precious in this world: kindness, compassion, strength, freedom, and magic. Amidst all of the frenzy of grad school and adulthood, I’ve stumbled more than a few times and forgotten my why.

I think the previous post was me feeling burned out without realizing it. It was me grasping at what I had lost without understanding what that loss actually meant. And it took a hell of a lot of energy and grit to gain it back. It also took a lot of tender and silent moments to reflect on what had happened. This is where the magic comes in: the gentle nudges that reminded me to go back to my centre, remember my roots, and stay in the home I had created for myself years ago.

I know my struggle in balancing this home with the desire for adventure and exploration. I know that imbalance means getting lost. But I also know that if I hold onto the magic – the silent reflection, the Disney music, the writing roots – I’ll be okay.