When your work life isn’t working out, a change can be as good as a holiday

Something unfortunate I have come to discover about myself is that I am able to burn out easily. Like, really easily.

It’s not that I have a low capacity for work and stress, it’s that I am a full-tilt kind of person. If I like you, I really like you. If I’m bored, I’m really bored. When I laze, boy, do I LAZE.

When I am given a task at work, I try my best to get it done properly. I struggle with putting out work that isn’t “good enough”. It needs to be excellent for me to be satisfied.

This is a recipe for problems. Sometimes the job just needs to get done and the quality of the work is secondary to it just being, you know, done. This is a recipe for burnout, and that’s what happened to me at the end of last year.

My role was not clearly defined, nor were my requests for more clarification met with real urgency. I was expected to just get on with it. I felt like I was failing all the time because I didn’t get feedback.

After a few dramatic meetings, I decided to resign. My body was screaming at me to get out, so I did.

Emboldened by other tech workers, I decided to quit without a new job lined up. The Great Resignation, they are calling it. I was determined not to be in the hot seat for another minute. Put a fork in me, I’m done!

Burn-out is a surreal experience that happens both quickly and slowly. This all went down in six months. So, in that sense, it’s not like I was killing myself in a high-stress job for years. But those last three months felt excruciatingly long.

I started to notice the effects of burnout around October. First, my eating became uncontrollable. I needed chemical intervention to fall asleep. My wrist gave up at some point, from too many hours in front of my computer.

I experienced a semi-permanent knot in my stomach. Towards the end of November, I experienced a back spasm so severe that I took myself to the emergency room.

Everything I promised myself I wouldn’t let happen, again after my PhD, happened again. At least this time I was able to recognise the pattern sooner and extricate myself from the situation.

I had been squirrelling money away every month, so I had an emergency fund for calamities. This felt like a calamity. When I reached my breaking point, I could afford to fall apart gracefully.

Have I been falling apart gracefully? Well, no. I have been equal parts existential and terrified. The first few weeks of being “funemployed” have been about detoxing from the stress of the resignation and its consequences.

Watching my savings move in the opposite direction has been a source of deep insecurity. I’m extremely uncomfortable. But I’ve decided to sit with this discomfort and hold it lightly where possible, examining its edges and valleys.

This is the first time in my life that I have given myself a break. I have gifted myself the opportunity to get off of the rollercoaster for a bit.

The Pilates studio I frequent was closed from around my last day of work until this morning. As I was driving to my class, I noticed how much lighter I feel than when I was making this same drive a few weeks ago. The knot in my chest is almost gone. My limbs feel languid. I feel optimistic.

My body surprised me on the mat with its strength and endurance, despite the break. I feel excited about the next few months in between jobs.

I am starting to figure out what I need from management in my next job and feeling comfortable with these needs. And because I made saving a priority, I won’t be applying for new jobs until at least March.

As I’ve been spending this time exhaling, it occurred to me that I don’t need to wait until retirement to enjoy my life. I can, and will, take blocks of time off every few years.

I will bake this “sabbatical” experience into my lifestyle going forward. I hope that you too are making space in your budget for the things your body is telling you to prioritise, be it rest, frivolity, creativity, community, or something equally nice. You deserve it.