Spring Blossoms in Winter

I’m in the middle of an 8 week course on mindfulness mediation whose purpose is to provide NGO workers with tools to prevent burnout.  As I’m sitting in meditation the other night, observing my thoughts wander I suddenly hear a question rise inside my mind, “Are you burned out already?”  The question scares me and I move away from it.  It returns, I touch it with my thoughts for a little longer, than back away in fear.  Over the next few days the question becomes more and more prominent.

I find myself sitting at my work desk, unable to focus on the document in front of me.  I find myself in a very important meeting, arranged and requested by myself, unable to conjure about sincere interest in the subject at hand.  I find myself backing down.  I bring attention to actually feeling my physical body and feel nothing but pain and fatigue.  I am surrounded by the most loving, attentive and caring friends and still I feel extreme loneliness.  I have a busy, full and fun social life, and still I find myself bored.  I find myself at the end of the day, lying on my bed, staring into space.  Feeling nothing.  I start to worry about myself.

After years of practice I bring myself to the place of, “Ok, what can I imagine doing that would make me feel better?”  And I see myself in my home.  I see myself in the middle of the day, with no routine, no waking in the middle of the dark before dawn, no driving through checkpoints daily.  I feel a sense of lightness with these images, like small blossoms just beginning to open: those blossoms that are so small and undefined that I do not know to which type of tree they belong.

And yet, it is so difficult for me to admit that I may be burned out.  I hear myself responding, “But you should be stronger than this!”   In the perfect moment, a friend calls to tell me about a friend she is worried about who recently experienced a traumatic incidence that is unfortunately all too common in this industry and she is worried that he is so burned out that he is unable to think or plan his future clearly and….he will never admit that he might be in the place.  So I describe to her what I’ve been experiencing recently.  And how I find it much too difficult to admit that I’m not strong enough to handle it all.

What is strength to me?  The ability to handle it all…..perfectly.  The ability to be enthusiastic, and chipper, and successful at my job….every single day.   The ability to parent with love and enthusiasm….every moment.  The ability to know what my heart dreams for….and take steps confidently and without fear to get there.   I am none of these at the moment.

My friend reminds me of what a difficult job I am doing as a single parent trying to manage all of this.   She is trying to hold a mirror up to me and is asking me, “Do you see this?”  And the fact is, the reflection is empty.  All I imagine is somebody who is supposed to be “just doing” it, what we all do.  I don’t think I’m any more special or burdened than all those other people walking around me holding it together.

Last year I had begun to plan a 2-3 month sabbatical from work where I was going to remove myself from the world, hang out at a friend’s beach house and write.   The plan was falling beautifully into place when all hell broke loose at work.  My boss who I had worked this sabbatical out with was suddenly no longer my boss.  I was asked to take on two extra jobs and despite my attempts to say no, a promotion was dangled in front of me that I didn’t want to say "no."  And here I sit, 9 months later, fully burned out (so difficult to admit as I write that), and feeling like even a 2 month sabbatical would not be enough to heal from the frantic pace that has been my life for 8+ years.  I have given up so many bad habits that I had in those initial years.  I have so many more external and internal resources than I did even just 4 years ago.  And yet still, I have burned out.  But the blossom of an idea has opened this winter.