This winter, I slept eight or nine hours a night and still woke up exhausted. My eyelids fluttered closed as I put on eye makeup. By mid-morning, I could hardly keep my head up without the help of caffeine. For several months, my emotional exhaustion presented as physical exhaustion, because they were all rolled up in one.
Only now, on the other side of this deep emotional cavern, can I see it for what it was: a sign of burnout. I felt worn out and drained as a result of accumulated stress, as a result of not knowing when we would be on the other side of this dreadful pandemic, as a result of fear and loneliness. This manifested as poor sleep, a lack of energy and decreased motivation.
As I was in the midst of this emotional exhaustion, I told a friend that I had hit a wall. Her response floored me. She said, “Sometimes walls are there so we can lean on them and rest.” So that is what I did. I gave myself permission to slow down, to rest, to ask for help. I let my husband do more than his fair share of cooking and cleaning. I read more books and less social media. I turned off my phone. I talked to my doctor for medication to help me sleep. I took leisurely weekend naps. I rode my stationary bike each day. I joined friends for game nights via Zoom. I crafted and created art. And I began to heal.
“I want to tell you,
About the kindness of strangers,
About the young woman in the airport
Who was so exhausted and harried
By her rambunctious and restless toddler
That she finally sat down on the floor near the gate
And started to cry.
I want to tell you about the seven women
Who immediately flowed in from all directions
One pulling out a little toy from her purse,
One asking if it was alright to walk around for a bit
Hand in hand with the boy
Of course, always in sight of the mother …I want to tell you it will be alright
Even though no one can really promise that.
I want to tell you that there is help
But often not where you think you’re going to find it,
And tell you that there is always the other side of each valley
Where we will surely stand panting
and imperfect
But always
Amazed.”—by Carrie Newcomer, The Speed of Soul Blog
As I stand on the other side of this emotional exhaustion valley, I am indeed panting and imperfect, but amazed.
—Andi Lewis, Prairiewoods marketing coordinator