Burnout

It’s been a massive year. Clin masters full-time. Fifty-odd presentations talking about mental health. Private practice. Running inpatient and outpatient groups in a private mental health facility. And the physical training load - especially the running - has been heavy. Running can be lovely (I say that with a hint of fake positivity), but training to actually get faster… that takes me to an ugly place. It demands a version of me I can’t always access.

The body cracked it at me two weeks ago. I got sick - just the sniffles, nothing anyone’s sending “thinking of you” cards over - and it basically said, slow the hell down. The head ignored the memo (ignore, ignore, ignore - we’re all bloody good at that), but it wasn’t far behind. The sniffles cleared; the heaviness in the head didn’t. That was my cue to take action.

So there I was, literally walking out of running a men’s mental health program - a space where we spend our time breaking down barriers and chipping away at stigma - and I felt guilty as hell. Maybe even a bit weak. Like I was about to let the team down. Not live up to expectations. I sat down with two incredible managers and, honestly, had nothing. I muttered, in a shocking display of vocabulary, “I hope I don’t sound like a whiny b***h, but I need to step back and catch my breath.”

And they just met me with open arms. No judgement. Just support. The relief in my chest was instant - like taking shinpads off after a game of soccer (I stopped playing in under 12s). Speaking helps. I see it every day in my clients; I felt it myself in that moment. If you change nothing, nothing changes.

So I’ve carved out a little space - just enough to breathe, reset, and finish the year off bloody strong.Take care of yourselves - and each other.