Burnout's Dark Cloud Comes With a Silver Lining

Five hours were spent editing my manuscript this past weekend. I sat like a permanent fixture to my desk. I felt like one of those crusty old undead pirates stuck to the Flying Dutchman in Pirates of the Caribbean.

My desk — the ship. Me — the soul collected and stuck to it.

My pup wagged her tail as she watched me pick up my mug and finally push back from the desk I’d been stuck to. I gave her a quick pat then shuffled to the kitchen to get a refill on my coffee.

Cold and bitter. That needed fixing before I could keep editing.

Steam rose in my mug as I settled back into my chair. Pup curled up behind me. Round two of edits. The Flying Dutchman was calling me home.

But — a pull of dread hit me as I went to start the next chapter.

If I could equate that feeling to Pirates, that nasty dread would be the black spot’s warning. Seeing the black spot leads to the inevitable arrival of the Kraken. The end.

Burnout.

They always say to listen to your gut — those instincts that pull at the bottom of your belly when something just feels off. Building those gut reactions takes living through the very experiences it warns you to avoid, though.

At least — those more modern experiences that aren’t instinctually built-in to our human condition.

Like writing. Or building up a digital empire. Working behind screens is anything but natural. Our instincts don’t know how to read experiences involving that stuff, unless we offer exposure to it.

How can instincts warn us against dangers they aren’t attuned to?

On the flip side — recoiling from the height of a skyscraper, or shying away from a fire are dangers that don’t need introductions. That stuff is scary enough without having to experience it firsthand.

The Kraken? My intuition needs no priming on that one.

So, recognizable dangers make the gut scream in an act of self-preservation.

Modern burnout is less scream-worthy, though. It’s tied to the drive to constantly be interacting, improving and boosting numbers. Wheels spin and rubber burns away on asphalt with each push to top yesterday’s stats, or last week’s income.

It’s easy to do. Easy to get caught up in.

I’ve been through burnout multiple times over the past ten years; while I’m sick and tired of the grating feeling of having done too much, I’ve finally figured out a silver lining to burnout’s dark cloud.

Our gut can learn to alert us when it’s time to take a break; anti-burnout intuition can be built.

Each time a cycle of burnout happens, our mind and body registers the actions that lead up to it. We chart each little inkling of regret over having to write one more story, or networking for just one more hour.

The fatigue, mental exhaustion and eye strain that builds? The gut takes it all in. Like a logbook on a ship, it charts everything.

A study run by psychological scientist Joel Pearson posited that, “…intuition improved over time, suggesting that the mechanisms of intuition can be improved with practice.”

We begin to learn when a line is being crossed. Our intuition registers when we’re entering the danger zone.

Eventually, a nagging little pull will start to develop at the pit of the stomach like it did when I sat down for round two of edits. That’s the pang of warning.

It screams, “HEY! The last time you did this thing, you broke down for a week. Maybe you should stop!”

That’s my silver lining to experiencing burnout. My gut learns how I feel as I work myself into a burnout cycle; it warns me before I reach that critical level of overload.

I rarely burnout now because I know when to take a rest.

After my five-hour edit storm and the resulting feeling of dread, I stopped. I knew what was coming next, so I took a break. I peeled myself away from the desk and enjoyed my hot coffee — free of the Kraken that is burnout. The edits were done later that night.

So, many manuscripts and spotless edits are not a result of my many cycles of burnout. The only result worth writing about is that I know when not to keep pushing. Taking breaks is what keeps me productive.

My intuition became the captain at the helm. It learned a lot. Particularly how to control the lurking Kraken.

Writers — listen to your intuition. It’s okay to take breaks.

Even as dark as burnout’s cloud gets — it does indeed have a silver lining.

Thanks for reading - happy writing!

[Published originally on Medium]