Tag Archives: Burnout

Be a Tree

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions, God, Inner Healing, Peace, Scripture

Journal 2018

Two days in a row I rose from my bed feeling weary. Is this mild depression? Driven to get some fresh air and exercise, on Saturday I donned a light jacket, packed what I needed for the day, and headed to the Greenway. I snapped some photos and tried not to think. Just walk. Bare trees and brown hues dominated the landscape in the winter chill. I saw a red-headed woodpecker, two fat robins, some ducks on the water, a cardinal, and several squirrels with nuts in their mouths. Under one overpass, I was shocked to see how high the water had flooded at some point. Leaves twined tightly around branches above my head.

Returning to the trailhead, I sat on a bench to rest, but my body felt antsy, jiggly. As I tried to relax, I heard God say, “Be a tree.”

“But a tree doesn’t move!” I exclaimed.

“Precisely.”

A tree. Rooted. Still. Unmovable. Sturdy. Stable. Allowing the animals to come to me. I don’t have to find them; they will find me. Just be. Be still and know that I am God. Be still. Be still.

Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for Him. Psalm 37:7 (NIV)

In awe of this simple injunction from the Holy Spirit, I began to walk again. But it wasn’t enough. I could still feel the dread of having to be “on” at my next meeting.

I came to another bench warmed by the sun and stretched out on my back. I needed to release whatever load I was still carrying. In my mind I saw a steel cord across my chest with weights on the ends, holding me down. I heard the word responsibility.

Again? Still? Why do I keep struggling with this?

I asked the Lord to cut the cord or remove the balls, and surprisingly He refused.

What? A weight too heavy for Him to lift? I don’t understand.

“OK, Lord, do it your way.”

And I watched as He lifted the cord a few inches off my chest, suspended lightly on His index finger. Now I could choose to stay or to move. That felt better.

And so I walked some more.

“Is there more, Lord?” I still feel tired in my soul.

Then I saw a closet door. When I opened it, a mass of material goods tumbled out. “What a mess!” I cried. “I don’t have the energy to clean it up and sort through the pile.”

“Your decision-maker is tired,” He said. “It’s time to sort and tidy your environment. You’ve been living in clutter and chaos in your home for six weeks now with Christmas, company, family messes, extra meals, and three big projects completed in three weeks. Your office and sleeping space are not restful or peaceful. It’s time to take back your place and create a peaceful environment.”

“That I can do,” I thought. And with that, the oppressive, heavy feeling began to lift.

“Be a tree. Be still. Look to Me to make your decisions. Declutter and find peace once more.”

All during church the next day I tried to process, to rejuvenate, to just sit and soak in God’s presence. I visualized a part of my heart like a squirrel scampering around the tree, so many branches to explore, unable to settle. Then I saw one branch overladen with fruit (and perhaps some excess stuff) drooping to the ground. It represented my to-do-list responsibilities, my ongoing projects, my schedule, and my ministry relationships. It represented the month of January and the burdens I’ve been carrying. I knew the little squirrel needed to stay away from that branch, but he lusted after the fruit. Perching on another branch on Sunday meant trying to focus on other things for a while, but that simply did not work. And so, I gave up the escapist, self-disciplined route to focus on what it might feel like to venture out onto that over-burdened branch. I was afraid it would snap and fall to the ground, and the fruit would rot before it could ripen.

And that’s when I saw a metal bar (God’s strength) underneath the branch supporting the weight. Now the squirrel could perch on the bar and still reach various fruits without breaking the whole limb. That felt a whole lot lighter and safer.

The next morning, I felt more rested and alert instead of groggy and grumpy. And that evening I did not get overwhelmed when we hosted a Super Bowl party for our entire family. Let’s see what tomorrow brings.

He shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper. Psalm 1:3 (KJV)

Like a cedar of Lebanon he will send down his roots; his young shoots will grow. His splendor will be like an olive tree, his fragrance like a cedar of Lebanon. People will dwell again in his shade. Hosea 14:5b-7a NIV

On Job Burnout

Posted on by under Emotions, Inner Healing

Journal 2007

I’m really struggling right now. I’m angry, resentful, proud, defensive, hurt, sad, and stressed. I’ve had to let go of other areas of responsibility in order to survive my teaching duties. I’ve lost my joy and peace, and I don’t know the way back. My friends say I sound depressed.

[I was teaching at a junior college whose goal was to motivate struggling students to stay in school. The administration placed great pressure on the teachers to make this happen.]

VISUAL

I’ve sidled ungracefully past the wildly swinging middle section of a tightrope, but now I’m weary, trying to stay centered. Some in the watching crowd cheer me; others boo. I want to be applauded; I want to be liked; but when a belligerent student confronts me, my hackles rise.

ANOTHER VISUAL

I am a track team coach. I can encourage the runners from the sidelines or drive the momentum from the front. But if they choose to quit running, I can’t force them to continue. Nor can I simultaneously grasp every hand and drag them forward. While I’m helping one, others lag behind. I urge them to help each other, but it’s not enough. Complaining the race is too hard, many keep stepping off the track, distracted by illness, winter weather, or family stressors. Others continue to run but get lost and wander off into the marshes. Some are so far behind they’ll never catch up.

Meanwhile, my boss yells at me that I’m not trying hard enough. It’s my fault if I don’t provide their running shoes, hold their hands, and stay with them till the sun goes down.

And me? I’m wearing myself out trying to be in multiple places at once. I’m running 16 hours a day to keep the pace for the motivated student runners while racing back and forth to grab the laggers. I hear my boss yelling in one ear, and the runners wheezing and gasping in the other. The front runners complain that I’m spending too much time in back, and the ones in back complain I’m out front too much. I’m angry, tired, discouraged and ready for the finish line.

A THIRD VISUAL

I’m a spelunking tour guide. To those in my assigned group who follow closely enough to hear, I point out the beauty of the stalactites along the way. I can wait for a few stragglers to catch up before I begin lecturing, but if they linger in the back, talking and not listening, that’s on them. Or if they turn back to the entrance of the cave, I have to let them go. It’s not my fault if they are physically incapable of keeping up. I can provide a wheelchair, but unless they get someone else to push them, they’re stuck. I already have six people in my group who need wheelchairs! My job is to keep lecturing and keep pointing the way with my flashlight.

I become discouraged when I discover that only 8 to10 out of my original 20 make it to the beautiful waterfall at the end of the cave. The stragglers have missed it!

Now that I’m finished ranting, I’m ready to listen to the Lord.

THE LESSON

I am at fault. I have not bathed my classes in prayer. I have not prayed for my students by name. I have not consistently blessed my classroom. I’ve been too tired, distracted, and preoccupied to give it all over to God. I keep griping and crying that it’s too hard, too impossible a task that God has required of me. (Hmm. I sound like my students!)

And so, I repent for neglecting my spiritual disciplines. I can’t keep the students on track if I don’t have the right focus.

I realize, now, that it’s the company’s responsibility, not mine, to make sure the spelunkers sign a waiver saying they are physically and mentally fit for the journey BEFORE they enter the cave. Now that I understand it’s not my fault and that I’m doing all I can, what do I do with those in wheelchairs that the company requires me to get safely back to the entrance? I’m afraid the students will have to wait there alone in the pitch-blackness until we send for help. That’s when I notice permanent low lights lining the path. They will be safe for now.

A 2025 Update. I understand the passion behind wanting to help students succeed, but I’m not sure pressuring the teachers was the best motivation. This school is no longer in existence, and I am no longer teaching.

Approaching Burnout

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions, Peace, Scripture

Journal 2018

I can feel my mind and body edging toward burnout. It’s been an intense people- as well as project-oriented month. I need an entire day of alone time, but that’s not about to happen anytime soon.

VISUAL

I see a large room densely filled with high-energy party people. The noise is deafening. I’d prefer to stay outside, under the stars, alone and quiet. Sometimes that’s necessary, sometimes that’s possible. But I need to work through what it feels like to have to open the door and enter even when my reserves are gone.

Jesus says to sit with Him first. Outside.

I can do that. A pond in front of our park bench reflects the moon. It’s quiet, peaceful. I don’t want to talk or think or plan or look at a clock or a calendar.

AI-generated

LATER

I spent all my free time reading a novel, guilt-free, no agenda, no thinking, just resting. I’m doing better but still craving more down time.

My mind continually goes to the Apostle Paul. What he endured is astounding. How did he physically survive all the persecution and emotional trauma? How did he not crack under the pressure? Was his drivenness from his temperament or from his experience? I feel like such a wimp next to this giant in the faith.

As I write this, I recognize false guilt: I believe I’m inferior, less than, a gnat next to a giant.

Jesus says, “Why are you comparing yourself to Paul? Why not to Me?”

My head wants to say, “Impossible,” but my heart wants to snuggle up next to Him and accept His unconditional love.

I feel His gentle rebuke. “What is Paul to you? I have different plans for different people. Do not take on what is not yours.”

It’s time to let that one go. I can learn from Paul, from his triumphs and mistakes, but I must keep my eyes on Jesus.

ANOTHER VISUAL

The visual changes as the Apostle Paul and I are now the same height, mere mortals obeying our Master. One is not inferior or superior, except in our choices. I may make wise or foolish choices based on the hand that’s been dealt me. I will not pout or gloat if I win or lose a game if I play it the best I know how with hints from the Master Dealer. Just play the hand smartly, take some risks or play it safe. But most of all, play graciously. Let my mistakes go, but learn from my faux pas and don’t repeat them. And do not get jealous if someone gets more wild cards than I do or if I get none at all. Play fair and without complaining and enjoy the game.

Needing to Rest

Posted on by under Emotions, Peace

Journal 2006

Yesterday was a test of endurance. Three people called to unload their woes on me. Then last night I didn’t know that our middle daughter was coming home to spend the night, and I could hear her rattling around the house till 2:30 a.m. At 4:30 a.m. I heard a terrific cat fight. Since K-C is an indoor cat, I didn’t think much of it, but the noise fully woke me, and I got up because I was hot. That’s when I discovered the back door was ajar and the porch light was on. The neighbor cat shot out the door leaving his sprayed male scent and fur on the floor and a terrorized K-C. For the next seven hours I tried to return to sleep without success. I was burned out from the night before, trying to get ready to teach my first class.

K-C did not last long at our house!

I think I handled the first interruption okay, worse with the second, but by the third, I just gave up and gave in. I had to quit thinking and start preparing for the class and wing it with what was left in me.

I need a Sabbath day of rest! One month with family, holidays, company, starting a new job, and driving our youngest to college leaves me with no downtime. I want to be a little bird, soaring on the wind, or a duck peacefully floating on a warm pond with the breeze ruffling my feathers. I want to be a cat, content to curl up in my mistress’s lap and go to sleep, knowing my needs will be met. I want to jump onto the highest counter to escape the world and survey the humans below. But when I do, I see the mess the world is in. Too much pain, heartache, and stress, and my world has been crazily spinning out of control, off on tangents instead of staying on its axis.

Peaches, our current feline

Am I crazy to take on a teaching job again? What was I thinking? But the offer dropped in my lap after I asked God to supply our needs. He’ll have to help me juggle my time. I’m through worrying about it. Meanwhile, how to get my body rested and my mind to relax … I’ve been on a treadmill for too long, and I need to get off. I’ll have to WORK at resting!

I need balance. Demands or requests for my time from other people collide with my to-do list. Are interruptions always about God’s timing? Are they sometimes Satan’s interference? How does one discern which it is? I know that people need to come before things in my priorities, but what if the “thing” is a service for someone?

When someone calls, for example, wanting prayer, do I stop what I’m doing to minister to them? Sometimes yes, sometimes no. If I’m on my way to a meeting at church and I get a phone call, do I forgo my small group time or, like last night my commitment to nursery duty, to process with this person? No, I can say a quick prayer for them and urge them to make an appointment. It’s okay to manage my time.

On the other hand, like today, I was at home preparing for my class when I got three phone calls that interrupted me—each needing a listening ear. One I gave my full attention to; the second only half-heartedly, and the third I put off till later. Should I have done that? I burned out by the end of the day. Had I rested long enough from my work to minister and pray, I might have gotten more work done.

A 2025 Update. I learned better balance from my days of imbalance. I learned that your crisis is not my emergency. I learned to listen to my body and, most of all, my emotions that drove that imbalance. It’s better to be at peace than to have to pick up the pieces.

Burnout Is a Dead campfire

Posted on by under Emotions, Inner Healing, Peace

Journal 2006

Burnout is a dead campfire. No spark, no heat, just cold ashes. No life left to warm others. No energy to cook. Useless. It needs an outside source to reignite the wood. And rain further diminishes any chance of catching a spark. Cool and damp, I retreat to my tent.

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AI-generated

I remember my experience in Grade 6 at Camp Barakel.* One night we were scheduled to camp outdoors, but for some reason our counselor decided to forgo setting up tents. In the middle of the night, rain sent us dashing to our cabins—clothing, hair, and sleeping bags soaked. Shivering and shaking, I wrapped myself in my one dry towel for the rest of the miserable night.

I don’t know how to release the bone-chilling shivers in this memory. It reminds me of the day my dad, my brother, and I got caught in a downpour on our motorcycle on an African footpath. As soon as we reached home, Mom stoked the fire in the wood stove to heat up some water, stripped off my clothes, and plopped me into the tin bathtub. I think I’ve hated being cold ever since.

As I sit with the memories and release my anger and blame, I notice my campfire has a single flame, fed by a wick where oil flows steadily beneath it—God’s eternal supply. I venture out of my tent and savor the warmth. Perhaps I’ll have enough strength now to face tomorrow.

*I haven’t thought about this camp in years. What fun to discover it is still in existence. Camp Barakel | A Year-round Christian Camp in Northeast Michigan

On Burnout

Posted on by under Emotions, Peace, Scripture

In repentance and rest is your salvation,
in quietness and trust is your strength (Isaiah 30:15).

woman-alone-sleeping-occupation-professional_1262-839

Journal entry from April 19, 2007. I’m tired, so very tired. And it’s my own doing. I control my own schedule, so why did I do this to myself? I’m neglecting my own needs for the sake of others, and I’m neglecting my family’s needs for my own. I’m tired physically and emotionally and can feel depression creeping in. It’s time to say no to everyone today and spend time with God. Just for now. For one hour, I’m going to focus on Jesus. Shut out the needs and screams of others demanding my attention.

You take care of them, Lord. I give the whole package up to you: my schedule, the people in my life, my day, my accomplishments. Today is Your day. I will take it at Your pace, one thing at a time, one step at a time. I pray that You will screen my interruptions today. Guide my every thought. Amen.

April 20. Yesterday was rejuvenating to me. I took the whole day just for me. I deep-cleaned the house, balanced the checkbook, sorted stuff out, made cookies, went shopping for groceries. The one thing I didn’t do was answer the 25 phone calls that rang! It felt awful doing so, but I was beyond caring. I knew I had to take care of myself before I could take care of others. It felt so good to get my house in order. Now I’m ready to serve again.

Put on the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness.
Lift up your voice to God.
Praise with the spirit and with understanding,
O magnify the Lord.

Burnout with Care-taking

Posted on by under Emotions

Following the death of my father in November 2007, we brought Mom home to stay with us for awhile. Here’s a journal entry from that time 10 years ago.Grave Stone Mom 1

January 8, 2008. The Christmas holidays have done me in, and I’m trying to recover from burnout. It’s not a pleasant place to be when others are depending on you. But I must practice what I preach and take care of myself before I can successfully care for others.

In my self-righteousness, I criticize others for allowing themselves to get into this position, but now I find myself wallowing in the same mire.

Interesting that I just recently attended a seminar on being a caretaker for the elderly. The first thing that was emphasized was to take breaks and take care of yourself. And I failed to do that. I failed in the first rule of thumb, and now I’m paying for it.

Can I give myself permission to recuperate without feeling guilty? Without accepting the accusing fingers that I’m not giving others the time they need? How does a counselor maintain distance? Once you become the counselee’s only lifeline, you get accused of abandoning, neglecting, ignoring, being selfish, and blamed if their needs aren’t being met by you.

Where does my responsibility to myself, my family, my friends and my counselees begin and end? Balance and priority. It’s easy enough to tell someone else what to do and how to do it. Harder to practice what you preach.

The key? Listen to Jesus and listen to yourself. Obey God no matter what. And then find out what it is that you’re feeling, what’s driving you to this point. I failed to do that during the seven weeks Mom came to live with us. And so, belatedly, I’m going to try to work through this.

First, I’ve noticed some similarities and differences between child-care and elder-care.

  1. You can tell/train a toddler. You must give dignity and respect to the elder.
  2. A child may not understand. An elder can (if she has all her faculties).
  3. Both are driven by emotion.
  4. A child needs more supervision. My mom needed more diversion.

And that, I think, is where I felt the push-pull. I became Mom’s sole source of diversion. Mom is an out-loud thinker and therefore, by default, I became her primary target. Because I’m an inside thinker for the most part, I can’t function too well with the distractions of chatter that expect a response. I have a hard time focusing and thinking about my task at hand. I spent much of my time reading to her, playing games together (Scrabble and Rook), or doing crossword puzzles.

Mom could not enjoy the TV or movies because of her macular degeneration. She missed her independence at home with her CCTV (a device that enlarges print). And so I became very attentive to her need to be listened to. Her one and only diversion was to listen to books on tape—her default if I was preoccupied.

I love my mother, and I’d do anything for her. I felt sorry for her loss of her husband, her home in California, her forced move to Florida. I felt bad leaving her alone or not including her in all the family activities, and so I isolated myself with her sometimes while the family watched TV.

Where did this feeling of responsibility or obligation come from? Because she is a guest in my home? Because she’s the weakest link right now in our family? Because I feel sorry for her that she’s trapped in an old person’s body with poor eyesight, in someone else’s home? Funny. . . Mom never complained or criticized me. So what was driving my behavior and emotions?

Visual:  I’m carrying Mom on my back. I get tired and have to put her down to rest. I keep carrying her past the point of my exhaustion. And I shouldn’t have because then, if I fall, we both get hurt.

Today I lay my burden down—not a burden in a negative sense, but as in a load. From off my shoulders, I set down my mother, my children, my husband, cooking and house cleaning, friends, counselees, and my entire to-do list. Today I give myself permission to rest.

January 9. I feel 100% better after resting yesterday. I have my energy and drive back. Sometimes mental rest is as important as the physical.