Sometimes the wound is the gift.
On a grey cloudy day when small patches of blue would break through the sky my Grandma used to say, “there’s enough blue sky to make a pair of sailors trousers.”
The phrase comes from an old country saying that when there is enough blue sky to cut out bell bottomed breeches the worst of the storm is over. It’s the promise of fairer weather ahead, though perhaps said with more optimism than accuracy.
But hope is important, especially when you are left clutching the ashes of yourself.
Moments before midnight on the 31st December 2022, my phone lit up with a message from a friend that read “2023 isn’t ready for you babe!” And I grinned confidently at my screen like it was a given. Standing a little smugly with my toes on the threshold of a new year, reflective of the one just been, I thought “Yeah. I’m only just getting started.”
I had a Sunday Times Award Honoured book under my belt, big projects, podcasts and this Substack to launch, business to bring in for our company, change to implement across multiple industries and a second book to start writing. I had “purpose”, a self care and elevated fitness routine, glowing skin, big travel plans, a new agent, a community and hobbies that I relished, had starting dating again, fuck!
I had it all going on.
On paper I was #nailingit and hell, I’d worked HARD for it but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was somehow out of my body. That I was hovering above my life, spectral like, existing but not quite living it.
A six week chest infection followed by covid at the start of the year should have been an indicator. My body, strong and stable as I thought it was, just couldn’t fight it. Resistance was futile, but I still gave it a good go and on and on I went.
There is one day that particularly stands out. I had sat down to finish a piece of music for a documentary, something that comes as naturally to me as drawing breath but instead I just drew a blank. It was as if that part of my brain had shutdown and I couldn’t find the on switch. My friends have since told me that around that time, the light in my eyes had also gone fully out.
I went to the doctors for sleeping pills assuming that my 1.5 hours a night was the problem. I had things to do, people to see, compositions to build etc. I wasn’t given sleeping pills instead after some gentle interrogation, I was signed off work with severe burnout and exhaustion.
As it turns out, it was me that wasn’t ready for 2023.
I wrote about burnout in a previous post on here and it was beautiful, in fact I thought it was one of the best things I’d ever written. But that was with hindsight and that wasn’t burnout as I know it now. This burnout has been an extended period of extreme exhaustion and depletion where at it’s worst, I couldn’t write, couldn’t speak, couldn’t stand, couldn’t sleep let alone put a poetic fucking sentence together and then voice it out loud.
Once I’d been given the permission to stop, it hit me like a truck.
I lost the ability and energy to effectively do anything for a time but my main concern had been my work which is the one thing that has always kept me anchored. Not once in my life had I ever worried about losing my skill, motivation or creativity but suddenly all were long gone. So intertwined were my work and I that it felt like I had gone with it and for a terrifying interval I totally lost my mind.
I am not going to reduce this experience to a “Top Ten Tips for Recovering from Burnout” listicle article, it’s much too complex for that and in truth, I don’t feel like I have the authority to give out advice on a living topic such as this. I’m learning as a I go, there is no conclusive resolution, perhaps there will never be.
I’ll admit that I naively thought it would be over by now. Thought I would have come out of it with wings, longed for peak transformation, for the moment I would sashay through a curtain starry eyed exclaiming “Tonight Matthew I’m going to be … HEALED!” before emerging like a Phoenix risen from the ashes of the house I had burnt down.
Man, I wanted it to be the making of me. And in some ways it has been, but you wouldn’t know for looking. Growth after all is not a spectacle. I’ve felt protective and very private these last ten months. Frustrated too of course by the pace. It’s difficult to step slowly when the world is urging you to rush. I don’t have any big announcements other than I’m here, now, finally able to write this down for you.
To the fight or flight state I was trapped in before, it could all feel a little mundane, unremarkable but I know that this version of me was not born from ease and it felt important for me to own that and this period in an honest way. I had been low on words and bravery but I was recently reminded of this quote by the writer, Emma Howarth,
“Why bother? Because right now there is someone out there with a wound in the exact shape of your words”
Perhaps there is something helpful in here for you (perhaps it’s been helpful for me too.)
How Did You Get Here?!
Our society places a great emphasis on productivity, performance, self-optimization, and achievement which has resulted in an alarming epidemic of burnout. And while extreme working culture (#girlboss) and gruelling hours have been glamorised, the conversation has started to shift to recognise its seriousness and nuance.
Against a backdrop of a global pandemic, a cost of living crisis, war, genocide, existing in a capitalist society and a climate catastrophe, over 88% of the UK workforce have been signed off with burnout in the last two years alone and that figure is rising.
I can only speak to my own experience but it is widely acknowledged that someone with ADHD is much more susceptible to this kind of chronic exhaustion.
Our tendency to overcompensate, our ability to take on more than is considered humanly possible, our guilt around resting and low self esteem are all factors.
Unmanaged, it can lead you into pretty dangerous territory.
Joe Robinson, an Optimal Performance Strategist and Burnout coach describes the severity of burnout so eloquently. He writes,
Burnout isn’t just being very tired, which it is (the main dimension is exhaustion). It’s a serious medical condition that can set off other problems—depression, stroke, heart attacks, suicidal thoughts, breakdown. The last stage of chronic stress, burnout occurs when all your energetic resources—emotional, physical, and mental—have been used up.
With no resources left to counter the catastrophic thoughts of stress, it’s hard to contest false beliefs triggered by an ancient part of your brain that thinks you are about to die. Instead of being able to marshal analytical thought or physical willpower to fight back, there’s nothing, a void, that feels very odd and fragile to people who have always had the ability to bounce back.
It essentially guts the entire internal mechanism of us, like lifting the hood off a car and finding no engine and for those of us who have defined ourselves by performance, it can feel utterly shameful.
‘Research burnout on the Internet, and you’ll find a trove of helpful hints like “Learn to manage stress!” and “Live life in balance!” This is like hearing a financial manager tell you, “Have several million dollars!”’
Martha Beck, CNN
The question that everyone asks is “how did you get there?!” the answer isn’t simple. There are many contributing factors to burnout; overworking, fear of failure, fear of stigma, pressure to perform, emotional exhaustion, perceived lack of options, lack of support and/or boundaries to name a few.
For many people, myself included, it’s a prolonged unravelling, an accumulation over time, years in fact, possibly decades. It wasn’t so much the doing too much, that’s an oversimplification, it was much more how I was doing it, why and for who.
A toxic little cocktail of working-class insecurity, justice sensitivity, hyper-independence, unexamined behavioural patterns rooted in my childhood, my inherent ability to take on everyone else’s “stuff” sitting in high stress situations and my reluctance to ask for help whisked up with a little patriarchy, a little capitalism and that bittersweet late diagnosed ADHD cherry on top.
Needless to say, it’s a complicated concept. And while I’ve made an attempt to understand it for the most part there are still so many shades of grey.
I pride myself on my work ethic, empathy, passion and tenacity. They are qualities that have enabled me to pursue a line of work that brings me immense satisfaction but also very close to other people’s pain, to become a vessel for their lives and stories. I have sat with their joy, fear, rage, hope, grief and everything in between, holding spaces where it is safe for them to be vulnerable.
The responsibility that comes with carrying and ultimately honouring the truth of what they tell me so that I can tell you in whatever format - podcast, documentary, book - can weigh very heavy.
Sometimes I’m not sure which emotions belong to me and which belong to them.
I also recognise that my 100% is most people’s 1000%. That I could do the work of a six person team and still come out swinging, so who was going to stop me?
I have often been described as “a force” but the truth is, when you have climbed from the bottom you are very mindful of just how far you have to fall back down. That sense of jeopardy never leaves you, in fact it was so embedded in me that even when I had achieved monumental things; multiple awards, book deals and was headhunted for coveted job after coveted job, I didn’t stop. Regardless of whether I truly wanted what was on offer or not.
And while I am proud of everything I have accomplished, it has come at a price.
The formidable agent and author Abigail Bergstrom notes “A lot of us have to work hard to achieve things, we aren’t handed them. And hard work can look ugly.”
In her piece examining her own burnout, Bergstrom writes,
There is nothing glamorous about working yourself so hard that you start to forget how to relish being. Yet in the same breath, there are setbacks and compromises to be made if we want to achieve things like writing a book, getting promoted, starting a successful business and so on –perhaps we all need to start being more transparent about that. This is a living topic by its very nature and it manifests differently for each of us. All we can do is question ourselves: how far is too far
Sure, it all looks shiny, but I was shrinking. And the reality is, in trying to be everything to everyone else, I had totally abandoned myself.
To be in need is to be human
The thing that is often overlooked about burnout is the overwhelming sense of purposeless it leaves you with, how it feels like loss, like grieving.
Not being able to do the things you did before with ease, the things that were second nature to you, that made you a “success” while simultaneously being weighed down with the uncertainty of whether you’ll ever do them again is like having to watch the house you have built burn down. Even if it had become an unsafe space to inhabit.
I felt like I had lost everything; my ability, my spark, my hunger, what I thought was the true essence of myself. With all that gone what was left? Who was I? They’re very confronting and uncomfortable questions at the best of times, more so at the worst.
What was I even worth now? What was the point of me?
I don’t know how much research has been done on the link between burnout and having an existential crisis but I’d say with full confidence that that particular relationship is thriving.
I’ve been back and forth with myself about whether to write all this down more times than I’m comfortable admitting, “What will people think of me?” has been rolling around my head like a marble. But I realised there is nothing anyone can say to me that I haven’t scolded myself for already in my head. Our brains can be a difficult place to live sometimes. And here in the lies the problem, if we shame ourselves into silence then burnout thrives because as Robinson notes, “the engine of it all is thinking and rumination which keeps the perceived danger alive and our organs working overtime” and if we remain in that state we’ll never get better.
Not being honest about how I was feeling with others or with myself was certainly a contributing factor. It’s easy to push away that feeling of disassociation when you remain highly functioning (ADHDer’s where you at?!) I also think it’s inherent in many of us especially those of us who were late diagnosed to feel reluctant to ask for help, to reach out for care, to even feel deserving of it.
Writing about her recovery from surgery, the bestselling author Reni Eddo-Lodge nails this feeling,
“I've grown up in a society that valorises the independent, the unencumbered, and the upward climb. It's a weird, capitalist, ableist construction that assumes that to be dependent on others is to be a drain. It doesn't value care or community. It doesn't recognise that weakness is simply a neutral state, not a declaration of moral value. And I've lived in a weird little space of cognitive dissonance in which I feel a pull of duty to the world around me, while simultaneously not wanting to be a burden to the people I am closest to. It's been an awful, self defeating belief that has meant that I've sometimes not sought out care when I desperately needed it.”
But to be in need, she summarises, is to be human. Being.
Not a Personal Failure
My recovery hasn’t been linear and it’s highly likely and recommended that it will alter how I do things forever. That was difficult to come to terms with in the beginning but it’s hard to see the wood for the trees when you’re in the thick of it.
Because now I’m ten months in and feeling particularly compassionate (a skill I’d definitely recommend honing) I can say hand on heart that I am grateful for this. That it stopped here, that I’ve had to face myself. I’m also grateful for my strength of character that against the odds decided that this won’t be the thing that defines or detonates me or takes away from everything I’ve done, but rather sees it as a opportunity to begin again.
I have been making an unhurried but deliberate effort (thankfully with neurodivergent-affirming support) to untangle some of the threads I have become bound by particularly the ones that only tied my worth to my productivity and output and what I could give to the world.
It's taking a lot to reinforce my self-trust and confidence again to be the full expression of myself and reconcile that in the grand scheme of this big beautiful life this is a process not a punishment. To be guided by change not become a victim of it.
Alongside an intensive course of Schema Therapy, EMDR and rest my Doctor, a brilliant and progressive man, didn’t shoo me off with a bag full of pharmaceuticals but a prescription for JOY and I have leaned into pleasure and leisure as part of this. At first that was laced with guilt (fucked up) it truly is joy that can give birth to creativity and help restore your energy and alleviate burnout just as much as rest and I feel lucky to have had the space to get curious about that.
I also have an amazing support system and strong movement, breath work and meditation practices that can bring me back into my body and out of my head.
It helps that I’ve had chunks of this period outside of London with family and close friends whose generosity and good life choices have meant that they could accommodate me in warmer climates and wild nature, away from the UK’s sad summer and rotten winter.
I still have to be very mindful of my energy; what i’m doing and who I’m around. But having stripped myself of the armour i’d accrued in order to maintain inhuman levels of resilience, I’m feeling and seeing things with so much clarity now that I know in an instant if something or someone is for me or not.
As a result I’ve had to navigate huge changes both personally and professionally. And in truth, it is difficult to fully de-programme. I have to catch myself when the need to apologise or overcompensate rises or I feel I have to justify time off. Or when I’ve secretly wished I could say “long covid” when people ask where I’ve been because I still feel the pang of shame that I did this to myself.
But burnout is not a personal failure, I know that now.
I also know that rest isn’t something that needs to be earned its a basic human need as is joy, community, asking for help and asserting strong boundaries while ensuring we are in situations, around people and in environments that nurture and honour these non-negotiables. It doesn’t make us weak or “too much” or a “failure”, it makes us human and fuck anyone that tells you otherwise.
And as my friend Dave said (with love) “Thank god you realised all this at 34 with so much life left to live, you little cunt.”
A Softer Thing
Part of recovery has been taking myself offline. It had started to feel all duty and no delight. I was being ruled by my thumbs and not my heart and it was adding too much to my already overloaded pile.
As a result I have really had to question, how do I want to show up in the world?
I know that for me in its purest sense that has always been rooted in a sincere and burning drive to use the skills I have to ensure people are heard and seen, to advocate for change and to try to make the world better.
Being brave, empathetic, a connector of people and having an inherent ability to articulate emotions, concepts and life in an inclusive way is important to me, not just because they are my strengths but because I have seen them make a difference on micro and macro levels.
But I also acknowledge that side by side with that is the very human desire to be witnessed, validated, loved or at the very least privy to the kind of feedback that confirms I exist in the world beyond my own comprehension.
It’s become a fundamental of modern living I think; it isn’t enough to just be or do, we need to be acknowledged in that being and doing to feel “connected”. I guess that's why I’m here writing this to you. I value you and this community but I am questioning how I want to participate in online spaces moving forward in a way that serves me and still resonates with you. That I can ensure is conducive to protecting my wellbeing while elevating yours. The jury is still out on that one which tells me it’s the right time to step back and regroup.
I wanted a space where we could all be seen and so I launched this Substack. I had big ambitions with articles, interviews and a podcast with some completely brilliant people that remains in my “to publish” folder, shaming me every time I open my laptop.
Until 2023, I’d never left anything unfinished and while I still feel a lot of discomfort in knowing there are other projects that I will never pick up again and people that I feel I’ve let down, I have been reminded of the importance of loosening my grip. That the world doesn’t end if I don’t see something to completion. That’s its ok if I change my mind. That ideas and creativity need space to settle, recover and evolve in their own time just as I do.
Marathon > Sprint.
I also know that when I’m grasping it’s coming from a place of lack and that’s not how I want to contribute to anything. Inspiration can’t be hunted, it comes in the moments that we’re not reaching and intuition tells me that “Late to the Party” will emerge in new ways that feel more authentic to me and my message when I’m ready.
And while I will always be lead by curiosity and strive to take life by the horns (that’s the very fabric of who I am) it’s nice to take a step back and exist without expectation, without story for a while. To not know what’s going to happen next and be ok with the “in between”. To live my experience- the being rather than the doing- while continuing to untether slowly, to become a softer thing.
As I write this from my current island base there are patches of blue breaking through an overcast sky. When my friend messages me to ask “how’s the weather?” Before I can think about it, I’ve already typed “HOPEFUL!” and I know it in my bones to be true.
Recently, I have been noticing things in a different way.
Colours are brighter, wild synchronicities keep occurring, my intuition is sharper and my boundaries are firmer. I continue to be held and supported by people who really nourish and see me and astonished by the kindness of acquaintances and strangers who have stepped forward into my life and are settling in to stay.
I’m travelling again; one of my greatest pleasures and biggest inspirations. It felt essential to explore again, interacting and integrating with new people, places and practices. Moving and meeting each new encounter from an embodied and ultimately expansive place. I’ve started tentatively working on collaborations that i’m really excited about that align with not only who I am, but where I am right now and saying a firm no to anything that doesn’t meet me fully there.
I’m clinging less to accomplishment, no longer quantifying my success based on output but the the quality of my conversations, the richness of my experiences, how I show up for myself and others and the depth of my breath that tells me fight or flight is no longer my baseline. I have been afforded the freedom I had longed for.
For all the sadness, rage and unpredictability (of which there has been plenty) there is also truth and beauty and evolution. I know more than I did before about myself, my limits and boundaries and more importantly what makes me happy and well. And armed with that knowledge I can be as smart or as stupid as I want to be in how I move forward. It’s liberating to take responsibility for your own life. To commit to cultivating the courage to ask,“What do I actually want? What do I actually need?” and relish living in the questions for a while.
And even when the fear crops up, which it inevitably does, I remember that it’s often an indication that I am facing the right way and it’s important to choose to stay present, alive to the chaos and uncertainty of this most wretched but precious lesson. To meet the war within myself with peace and radical tenderness, to continue to trust in the fire of this particular disintegration. One of my yoga teachers Carl Faure wrote a beautiful post about starting over recently.
He said,
‘It is true what they say: the wound IS the gift, and eventually the scars CAN be worn with pride. It is the human condition that exists in each of us. We're meant to recover, we're meant to metabolise pain, shame and loss. Yes, life requires death... but death is essential for new life.’
And that is exactly what this period has made space for. New life. True life. Living.
If you feel like you are struggling with burnout, be it with feelings of overwhelming fatigue, reduced productivity, or a sense of hopelessness or despair please reach out and make an appointment with your GP or a talking therapy service.
Burnout isn’t something which goes away on its own. If you don’t address it, it worsens and can cause further harm to your physical and mental health.
There is ZERO shame in reaching out. I learnt early on that being honest about how you’re feeling and owning where you’re at gives others permission to do the same and that’s a world I want to live in. So, I’m really gonna need you to advocate for yourself.
If you’ve been through it, fuck me, I salute you. Go gently friends x
Thank you for writing this, you could have been in my mind in parts
Thank you so much for posting this.