1. I keep waiting for my energy to come back. To be honest, I’m starting to worry that it won’t, that this is my new normal. And just when I start to freak out about that a little, I remind myself that healing takes time and I need to be patient.

2. My urge to teach may, at least in part, be me avoiding writing. I have so many ideas and plans for classes, and I realized the other day I was allowing them to take priority over my writing plans and projects. I’ve wanted to be a writer since the 2nd grade, when I realized it was a thing people did, a thing I could do, and I think now that I finally, finally, finally have the opportunity, I’m hesitant to start. I need to get out of my own way. This is helping: Elizabeth Gilbert’s free 10-step Writing Academy.

3. Every idea I have, my mind leaps immediately to how I can monetize it, share it, turn it into “something.” I have lost touch with my ability to create for the sake of creation, and it has me a little stuck. I need to simply make stuff for the sake of making — for joy, for insight, for release, for ease, for clarity…for nothing. Again, I need to be patient.

One wish: That we remember to rest, that we trust it takes time to shift things, that our effort doesn’t have to result in a particular something, that it can be nothing, that none of it has to happen quickly, and that our effort and ease don’t have to have value beyond our own experience of them. Be patient. Keep going. Don’t give up.

A friend messaged me yesterday to tell me she was quitting her job. She knew I would sympathize with her decision, and I do. I messaged her back and shared some of the things I’d learned so far, and realized I wanted to share them with you too.

1. Truth: I was more burnt out than I expected. I’ve shared this here already, but it’s a big one and worth sharing again. For the past four or five years, I’ve pushed myself so hard. My work at CSU kept getting more and more overwhelming, and it took a lot of energy to push back against that, to try and keep healthy boundaries. I also wanted more for myself, knew I had more to offer, and I tried to do that “on the side.” I got certified as a 500 hour yoga teacher and a meditation instructor, took lots of classes, did a lot of writing and some teaching. I raised a really difficult puppy into a slightly less difficult dog, and worked with the other to heal an injury while also managing my own chronic pain. Etc. There wasn’t the option to slow down or stop, so I just kept going until I collapsed. I’d take just enough time to recover and then I was right back at it. This summer, when I left my job for good and allowed myself to stop, I realized I was in full on burnout and it was going to take some time before I had the energy to start anything new. Every day has been focused on moving in ways that feel good and getting a lot of rest, along with letting myself feel what I feel about where I find myself right now.

2. Truth: Quitting CSU was like a breakup, but with a “thing” rather than a person. And let me tell you, that’s weird. When I feel angry about some of the things that happened in that relationship, or even when I miss it, there’s no real object to attach that to, no specific place or single person to direct it toward. It can feel really confusing.

3. Truth: There was no immediate sense of relief or freedom from quitting, being done. Maybe in part it’s because I have thought about it and planned for it for such a long time. Maybe it’s because anything you’ve imagined for so long can’t possibly live up to the fantasy. Maybe it’s because when you’ve waited for something for so long when it finally happens it doesn’t feel real. Maybe it’s a simple as I’ve had summers off for the past nine years, so it won’t be until school starts again in the fall but this time I don’t go back that it finally and fully sinks in.

One wish: That when we find ourselves burnt out, we allow ourselves the time and care it takes to heal, to restore and renew. That we honor what we need and pace ourselves, having patience with the process and being gentle with ourselves.