The Burnout Diary

+ 5 Green London Spaces To Retreat To

In a faulty body, it was only a matter of time, really. As defined by the WHO, the occupational phenomenon of unmanaged work related stress was going to warrant time out.

Bouncing around while your book slowly rises through the ranks, a quicker deadline turnaround than expected at work, as well as a new Long Covid diagnosis and new treatment practice was a recipe for a disaster. I also worry about disabled individuals across the pond - something that is a regular part of my WhatsApp history. Measles on the rise, with a major outbreak for the first time in a decade - meanwhile a commission declaring particular disabled people as all but public enemy number one? Judy Heumann’s legacy is under attack. Oh, and add a hundred freelance pitch challenge in for January. (Whelp.)

TLDR: The WHO list was slowly being ticked off - such as with energy depletion (more than usual), and especially an increased distance from working. Long Covid was showing off in spectacular fashion, too, an inconvenient roommate.

What I realised last year was that pacing needs to be applied to the pace of my work, too, which is a paradox when you freelance. Extended time off isn’t always possible for everyone; I know I tend to do too much at once, frustrated by the limits my disability imposes. I miss running most; I didn’t have to be good at it, movement meant a freedom over ground unobtainable elsewhere, resulting in much less anxiety. I haven’t quite found a replacement as yet.

Time away will have to be placed throughout the year strategically, in parts, as a management tool. Starting with 48 hours in South Kensington, the idea is simple. Carry the least amount, the basic minimum of possessions, without a plan in place bar a loose structure, all notifications silenced, make a run for the outside world.