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Home Education Magazine
May-June 2003 - Articles and Columns
Singing the Burnout Blues - Jacqueline M. Massey
Feeling a little stressed these days? A little overwhelmed? Over-extended or just plain used up? If there's any comfort in sharing the misery, you can rest assured you are not alone.
For many home-learning parents (this one included) that energy-sucking specter we recognize as burnout seems to be lurking in every dark corner. It's there when I pull up in the driveway on my way home from the eighth and last taxi run of the day--having picked up my eldest daughter from her drama class. I walk into my house and my two year-old is howling for another bath - the third of the day. My middle child can't find her gym shorts and needs them right now (though the class is three days away). My dog is dogging me with a frantic look that says "feed me, I haven't eaten in days." The phone is ringing, and I'm sure it's my sister wondering if I've bought my plane ticket yet so I can be with my ailing mom on her eightieth birthday. (I haven't.) Over the next 48 hours, I have an assignment due for a class I'm taking, a deadline for an article I've been assigned, a meeting to attend, a proposal to write, a volunteer position to fill. I need to renew my driver's license, plan my husband's birthday dinner party for six guests, take the car in for a tune up, drive a friend to the doctor, write a letter to the editor, attend a protest rally, go to my yoga class, co-host two writers' groups (one for kids and one for adults), and help my daughter prepare for her weekly math club that's held at our home. But right now, there's a pungent odor coming from the kitchen, and as I turn the corner I see the garbage spilled all over the kitchen floor. Smelly tuna fish, soggy cereal, cheesy noodles and heaps of refuse I dare not identify are splayed out on the linoleum. I call the dog, point to the mess, let her go to it, then crumple to the floor and cry.
It's then I feel its haunting presence overtake me. That's when burnout takes a fluid form and flows over me, submerging me and carrying me away. I've been set adrift. And you know what? Maybe I'll just surrender to its power. Maybe I'll lie here and let it engulf me with nary a struggle. Because I've learned a thing or two about burnout--oh, yes, I have.
When burnout sets in, it's a sign something's gone amiss. My life has careened out of control. I have lost myself. As my cartoonist husband says, I'm "off model." If I'm feeling fragmented and depleted, I'd better do two things. The first is to soak in a long, quiet, undisturbed, luxurious bath--complete with soothing essential oils. I need to sink my weary body into a deep tub of hot water, where I can relax and allow my thoughts, like the steam, to rise. Then I need to close my eyes, relax my mind and remember. I need to recall the reasons, all the reasons why I do what I do.
Clearly, burnout is the billboard on the side of the highway announcing the next exit. It's big and ugly and mars the view, but it can carry a useful message. It says it might be time for a change in direction. Or maybe it's a reminder I'm at the right point to take a rest, grab the chance to recoup, refuel, check the map, the travel itinerary and even the destination.
What that means for me is it's time to reexamine my priorities. I need to dig deep, get real and seriously question my motives. It's about being that authentic self I keep saying I want to be. It's about being true to myself.
When burnout takes me down for the count, I know I've gone astray. I've wandered off the path or struck out in a different direction. That might not be bad in itself, but I still need to try and understand how I got where I am and figure out where my next steps should take me. I probably need to take stock of the expectations I've foisted upon myself and those that others, well meaning or not, have about me. Am I being honest about my limitations? Am I being dragged along by someone else's agenda? And if so, why am I allowing myself to be pulled along?
I need to get clear about what's important, reassess my goals. And I need to reconnect with those things and, most significantly, those people who truly create meaning in my life. But it's not always that easy. There's always potential conflict between my personal and interpersonal life. So many interesting activities beckon to me, and there are so many wonderful people I'd like to spend time with and get to know better. I mean, for ages I've wanted to try wall climbing, (I'm sure I'd be a natural), do more hiking, resume piano lessons, take up fencing, learn more about photography, organize a knitting club, volunteer my time at the rape crisis center--just for starters. As for people, my list of those with whom I believe I could share interests and passions and my life is long and unending.
But what about my chosen profession? It's a source of fulfillment, not to mention income, and demands my time, energy and attention. And then there's my family and the solid-gold commitment I have toward them. Yes, I have to admit we have a co-dependent relationship. They need me as much as I need them. "Being there" for my daughters, their father and the dog, (well, maybe not the dog), comes pretty close to topping my list of what makes my spirit sing.
But there's something else that's essential, and when burnout strikes, it's usually because I've been negligent. I've misplaced my elixir that fills my heart and lightens my soul. I've forgotten to go dancing. It's been ages since I've listened to Laura Smith sing her bittersweet ballads. Margaret Atwood's latest book is still sitting on my bedside shelf, patiently waiting for me to turn its pages. I can't remember the last time I went on an artist's date. Let's face it: I've fallen down on the job of nourishing my inner Jacqueline, that person under my Superwoman cloak. And in doing so, I've failed everyone. So much for being invincible.
At a workshop I attended last fall, wise woman and long-time homeschooling mom, Marty Lane, said to fend off burnout, you have to "budget your sanity." I think that makes a lot of sense. All of us, homeschoolers or not, need to name and devise a way of disabling those things that make us crazy. We have to learn to let go, as regrettable as it may seem at the time, of those things that keep tripping us up and distracting us. At the same time, we need to hold on to that which makes us laugh or provides us with a cool drink when we are parched with thirst. That might mean carving out time to be with a friend who loves and supports you, or plunking down hard-earned cash for a foot massage. Whatever it takes, and there's always something that works. Just do it. But don't wait until burnout swoops down on you. You just might not have a dog like Cleo to clean up the mess.
© 2003 Jacqueline M. Massey
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May-June 2003 - Articles and Columns
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