Intense Burnout Calls For "Intensive" Solution

I thought I knew burnout: at one point, I was working three jobs while taking enough college credits to qualify as double-full-time; I’ve worked in community mental health and in an adolescent inpatient facility; I’ve been running my private practice for years without a “biller” or administrative assistant, while also being the primary parent to my children.

It turns out, even all that had not produced what I thought was burnout.

How do I know, you might ask?

Because last year, I really hit burnout, and it was unlike any level of stress I had ever experienced before in my life.

Let me set the scene: I was running my private practice (again, completely solo); My children were two and seven years old, and my son and I did Taekwondo together twice per week; I was singing in my church choir and, separately, leading the contemporary band; I was in a full-time PhD program; and then my husband was sent out of the country for work for three months.

Full disclosure: this wasn’t pretty. I am a person who keeps her cards close to the vest. I am an open book in a lot of ways, but I do not often let people see the cracks in my smile, if you know what I mean. During that period in my life? I cried- publicly- on multiple occasions. I simply could not hold it all in or hold it all together anymore.

I was exhausted. I wanted to quit almost everything I was involved in, because the thought of continuing like that was too much to bear, but I could not think of a single thing I could afford to drop: too many people were counting on me.

On a daily level, this looked like crying after my children went to bed, constant tightness in my chest, and the frustrating inability to catch a deep breath. It looked like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches or dino nuggets most nights for dinner (which is not a mortal crime against health, it just was not my ideal). It looked like broken sleep, occasional nightmares, and difficulty falling asleep, followed by difficulty getting out of bed in the mornings. It looked like a simmering tension in my relationship. It looked like my brain constantly buzzing with ideas, tasks, demands, and (often) forgotten obligations. It looked like retreating into myself at every opportunity, not for solace, but just to dissociate from all the noise.

I was not ok.

Here’s the real defining feature that told me it was not situational stress:

I felt this way for months after my husband came home. After he compassionately helped me pare down my responsibilities (bye-bye for now, PhD dreams…), after he took the lead on multiple household tasks and routinely offered for me to take a break- after I had more time to breathe, I still didn't feel like I could. My chest still felt tight. My brain would not slow down.

I felt adrift.

I could not connect with myself, my kids, my partner, my friends, my spirit… but slowing down made my insides itch* (not a clinical term). Even going back to therapy was not helping- and not because my therapist wasn’t great, but because she could not provide what I was desperate for.

What I needed was time, and I didn’t have any. I could not find a spare moment- or enough spare moments?- to make any progress on this hollowness in my chest.

Research tells us this is because burnout is a state of depletion. To math it: imagine you spent five years saving $10,000, but you found out you have to spend (or deplete) that $10,000 reserve on a new water heater for your home. Then a one-hour work seminar will not replenish that account; it will take time to replenish it. 

Burnout is a state of “I have nothing left.” Further, every day we exist and go through our motions, it costs us. More math, but I’m switching from money to spoons (or energy quantifiers), so bear with me: if you go to sleep and gain five spoons, then you use five spoons at work, you will come home with zero spoons. So you gain just enough every day to barely function, but have nothing left in case your car runs out of gas, or your toddler has a meltdown, or there’s traffic, or you spill food on your favorite shirt, or you are subjected to a dissertation about a video game boss, or there's just no plan for dinner.

This is why intense burnout requires an intensive solution. Weekly therapy was not giving me enough spoons to get through my day. Instead, what I needed- and finally forced myself to take- was extended time away from my stressors to gain enough spoons to kickstart refilling my reserves.

Outdoor Therapy Intensives are a high-impact solution for a high-impact problem. You get more than a one-hour “pause” from your day-  you have a full or multi-day break to quiet the internal buzzing and re-anchor into yourself. Not only are we temporarily leaving the stressful environment, but we are also immersing ourselves in a naturally regulating space. Burnout impairs our ability to regulate cortisol levels, but being in green spaces automatically initiates the repair process and helps cortisol levels return to normal. Between the full-day experience and the natural nervous system regulation of the outdoors, you will get time and space to breathe, and both learn and practice the tools for current healing and future burnout prevention.

Closing thought: Truly, the ideal way to heal from burnout is to take an extended sabbatical. However, most of us are not afforded that opportunity. As such, it is imperative that we find ways to restock our spoons. Pay attention to how many spoons you start and end each day with. Are there days you feel like you’re in the negative? Have you been in the negative for a while…? Is the thought of adding another weekly appointment enough to spiral you into a panic attack?

Don’t worry, I’ve got you covered. Email me for a free 15-minute consultation if you would like to reset your nervous system and get back to you on an Outdoor Nature Intensive.

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And always remember: You’ve got this.

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