Commitment issues? Burnout? Whatever it is, it’s time for something new.
I wanted space to share about how I was so tired of keeping it together.
Commitment issues? Who, me? Fine, I guess I haven’t hid it very well. Just ask one of my dozen abandoned blogs, they could use an audience. I may have commitment issues but I am still a Taurus. We are loyal and afraid of change. What better combination to help kick commitment issues aside?
One thing about me is that I love to work. If there’s anything that I need to do, it’ll involve developing and managing plans, designing an assessment and writing an evaluation. It doesn’t matter if it’s a grant application or a family vacation trip to Sesame Street, there’s a spreadsheet involved.
Hi, I’m K., and I am recovering from burnout.
In 2022, I turned 30 and got another therapist to help me quit my job. Yeah, I’ve spent money twice to get someone to tell me not to worry about making money. My mom thought I was nuts too.
The first time, I was in the middle of writing my master’s thesis and struggling to accept a decision that I made: the security of a job over continuing my second degree in social work. I had a plan but was too afraid to stick to it.
Instead of living with said decision, I hopped on a CTA bus to attend my first therapy session. The $30 co-pay could finally make its way into my budget—a perk of having a real salary. I was grossly underpaid but it was steady income with benefits. And I was providing meaningful labor, isn’t that what matters the most?
After our first session, my new therapist put her pen on top of the pad where she wrote a note. "Wow,” she said.
She lifted her head and stared at me with admiration.
“I’m impressed.”
She listened intently to the long winded story about my career path. She asked my age—exactly a month past 26. Wow, she repeated.
She lifted her head and stared at me with admiration.
“I’m impressed.”
She listened intently to the long winded story about my career path. She asked my age—exactly a month past 26. Wow, she repeated.
For some reason, that wasn’t what I wanted to hear. Suddenly, the session felt like a job interview and I was ready to nail every question. I shared that with her and said I wasn't sure if I was as honest as I should have been. Every word was true and my path is admirable—I can finally admit that without cringing—but it was exactly why I was sitting on the love seat across from a professional I hoped would tell me that I should quit my job.
I wanted space to share about how I was so tired of keeping it together. We had three sessions and I left each of them feeling like I was ungrateful for my accomplishments and the opportunities that they presented. It wasn’t my therapist’s fault, because I wasn’t fully sure what I wanted out of therapy beyond permission to move on. Eventually, we didn’t reschedule an appointment and I decided to stay at my job.
Quitting wasn’t an option, only working harder. So I did. Pregnancy didn’t slow me down, I simply got a second job and worked 60+ hours a week so I could save up for parental leave. (I was granted FMLA, which required using all of my PTO hours. Even after my employer “gifted” me two weeks, it wasn’t enough to cover the time that I needed.) I ended up with six weeks and split the time away with bonding with my newborn and applying for better paying jobs.
Not having a backup plan wasn’t an option, only going to the next level.
My son was six weeks old when I started a new role with higher pay. If I couldn’t be at home with him, at least I was making a direct impact and felt like I had a purpose. As much as it pains me to say that, it was true. Of course, it didn’t take me long to end up in an unhealthy cycle of overworking. My responsibilities grew and I tossed aside any belief that I could find something better. Did I want something better, or did I want a damn break?
So, I got another therapist to help me quit my job. This time, I sat in a Zoom meeting and explained that my accomplishments were wonderful but I was tired of reaching for more. I wanted to create art. I wanted to strengthen my personal relationships. I wanted to remember how to set boundaries and stick to them. My new therapist didn’t focus on my career path or fancy title. Instead, we worked together so I could figure out how to take risks.
I didn’t quit my job but I learned how to manage my anxiety better and reduce stress. I reconnected with hobbies and thanks to my now-preschooler, remembered how to play. My social identity, political commitments, and worth were so intertwined with my job, I couldn’t even remember what my interests were. I didn’t know how to be present in my personal life. Or for myself.
And I made the mistake of listening to the few voices telling me that I wasn’t capable of accomplishing what I was tasked to do. I worked harder to prove them wrong. What’s the opposite of commitment issues?
It took another year and a near-breakdown for me to stop feeling guilty about needing to go. But I finally quit my job. “I don’t want a withdrawal, I want a break” was the title of an essay I wrote during my senior year of college. Eight years passed by and I still hadn’t learned when enough was enough.
It feels detrimental to my career to admit that I am recovering from burnout. But if there’s anything else you should know about me, it’s that I won’t shy from the truth.
This isn’t my first round with burnout. However, it’s the first time that I’ve allowed myself to prioritize my mental health. We’ll see where the next chapter takes me, but I’m not in a hurry to get there.