Emerging from the tsunami of burnout

Come on, come on / Out from underneath who you were / Come on, come on now / You know that it’s time to emerge (“Emergence,” Sleep Token)

Now that I’m coming out of burnout, I find that I’m bleary-eyed and ravenous. I would liken it to hibernation, but there was a lot more happening than rest and conserving energy. In fact, burnout decidedly does not equal rest. That part comes later.

Burnout is a lot of work – and for me it doesn’t show itself much externally. Internally, it’s a constant reprioritization of commitments and activities, yes, but even thoughts and feelings. The thinking about my thinking during burnout is exhausting.

It’s existential, but also not abstract. It’s very very present and visceral. I have been burned out in the past, but I would say this last one lasted the longest and impacted me the most profoundly.

As I continue to get in touch with my Autistic / ADHD self, I’m also revisiting the 10-year-old Elizabeth who was blissfully unaware of her Autism. She was just… herself. Wrapped up in words and learning and crafting and special interests. Who read nonfiction books cover to cover and came back time and time again to the beautiful “Our World” coffee table book. Who poured over the weather pop-up book at her cousin’s house. Who loved school, and even Sunday school.

That inquisitive and introspective 10-year-old grew into a teenager who wrote poetry and journaled probably close to every day, before she had a job at the ripe age of fourteen.

I hate to say this, but things were different back then. If I had grown up in these days with this technology, I don’t know what that tween would have experienced. I wouldn’t have those times to fall back on.

Now, that fact doesn’t matter. What matters is that I developed the interests and skills of reading and writing and critical thinking to connect me back with an unmasked version of myself. I know how to sit in silence and ponder my thoughts. I know what it feels like to be overwhelmed with emotion (or maybe just whelmed? iykyk) and use words to work my way through the tsunami.

When I’m not burnt out (and apparently also when I’m unmasked), I am inquisitive, curious, decisive, confident, articulate, self-compassionate. I want to talk about all the things and turn over every stone. I become more enthusiastic about my work and my hobbies and my people.

Finding my way beyond burnout and hopefully staving it off as long as I can is of utmost importance. Thankfully the two-year-plus Autistic burnout I’m coming out of still left me with a full-time job that I enjoy, an intact marriage, and a close-knit (and also mostly neurodivergent!) group of people who love and support me. I’m coming out of it with a far clearer understanding of myself and goals for the future.

I do possess a fear that burnout could happen again. Unlike depression or anxiety (I also have had diagnoses of both), autism cannot be medicated. It’s not something to be fixed or cured. It is the way my brain and nervous system are wired. Participating in our individualistic and capitalistic society is unfortunately necessary if I’m to hold down a job and have a career that has potential for growth. It’s necessary if I’m going to continue to be a homeowner and consumer.

So, until society at large embraces the neurodiversity movement (or as I heard from Rev. Dr. Sarah Griffith Lund, neuroinclusion), I need to find ways of engaging with the world that allow me to unmask as much as possible while simultaneously help me to be whole.