Tag Archives: burn out

Coming out of the dark

12 Thursday Jun 2014

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I am a whopping 34 weeks pregnant and am delighted to report that I am doing soooo much better than I was.

light end tunnel

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The last 2 or 3 weeks have seen my energy levels return to a semblance of normality, so much so that we are considering stopping Eloise’s afternoon care sessions.  I reckon I’m up to having her in the afternoons now that I don’t need to sleep for all of it.  We’re going to trial having her home all day next week so fingers crossed that I continue to feel fine.

I was quite surprised to find my energy levels improving so late in my pregnancy – generally in the third trimester women tend to get whacked out from carrying around a whole bunch o’ baby.  I can’t say it has been due to Trim Healthy Mama either.  I’ve found it very hard to stick to as the last few weeks have been filled with family celebrations, trips away and unexpected house guests so we weren’t eating as we normally would.  Plus D and I decided to have a ‘frugal week’.  Every now and then we shop our pantry, clear out the leftovers and make lots of vegetarian dishes.  What we don’t spend out of our usual grocery budget gets given away, usually to a charity (our last donation went to help the relief effort in the Solomon Islands).  This time we wanted to donate money to the political party that we support as New Zealand has an election coming up soon.  In recent years I’ve felt convicted to support the party that I think has the best policies and representatives with actual cold, hard cash, and making sure that I am a card-carrying party member.  We support the Green Party who are one of the minor parties here, but they have gone from strength to strength in the past few years, and I predict they will perform well this year at the election.  Anyhow, what I’m trying to say is – it’s hard to afford the protein required for THM when you are being super-frugal for a week 🙂

THM is sugar-free.  They advocate using Stevia, Erythritol or Xylitol and there are an incredible amount of THMers out there getting pretty creative in the kitchen.  The next few weeks should pretty quiet so I will blog more about it then.

I can’t tell you how nice it is to have energy again.  I’m enjoying being able to play with my daughter more and being able to make activities for her to try.

It’s good to be back.  Even if it is just for a few weeks until the newborn sleep deprivation kicks in! 🙂

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Hunker down (v): to take shelter, literally or figuratively

12 Saturday Apr 2014

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I’d love to be able to report that I am much better; brimming with health and vitality.

 

Alas, no.  Life is still the same as it was in my last post.  I’m still battling with fatigue, and even though I am now 25 weeks pregnant, the light at the end of the tunnel feels very far, far away.

hunker down

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My doctor has run a barrage of tests to make sure I don’t have anything seriously wrong with me, but he just thinks Baby no 2 is simply putting more stress on my thyroid (I have hypothyroidism) than Eloise did.  Basically there’s nothing I can do but rest and pray things come right with my thyroid once the baby is here.  It’s a boy by the way!

D and I have been having a very tough time and are just feeling like we have absolutely nothing left in our tanks.  A couple of weeks ago Eloise and I got some gastro-bug (again!) and were both out of action for a week, and as soon as Eloise had recovered she promptly had a teething episode which saw her sleeping worse than a newborn.

Poor D is working hard to provide for us and has to pick up my slack (some days I can barely look after Eloise) so he is on Eloise duty a lot.  As far as my fatigue goes I have good days and bad days.  The annoying thing is that I absolutely cannot suck-it-up-and-push-through-it.  If I try, I pay for it for the next couple of days.  For example, last week I had a church event in the evening that I desperately wanted to attend.  I was exhausted, but I dragged my carcass there and had a great time.  The next day I got up, but after half an hour I felt like I might collapse if I didn’t go and lie down.  I ended up sleeping for several hours that morning and was very grateful that my mother-in-law was free to watch Eloise.

It turns out it’s quite hard to be kind, and light-hearted and to keep my sense of humour when I feel like a slug for weeks on end.  I’ve been squabbling with D, and am generally leaving grouchiness in my wake.

So after a council of war, D and I have decided to hunker down until the baby arrives.  I for one, am scared about going into life with a newborn and 18 month old when we are exhausted right now.  We’ve decided to say ‘no’ to any extraneous demands on our time.  Apart from a few church things, and D going to Toastmasters, we’re going to be homebodies, thank you very much.  For me it means saying ‘no’ to things like going to lots of Easter church services, or getting up for the ANZAC dawn parade.  Saying ‘no’ to requests for me to help out with playgroups or ukulele lessons.  Basically this will be me:

grumpy no

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Roll on due date!

Principle 1: Take Care of Yourself First

31 Thursday Oct 2013

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oxygen-mask

I am stressed.

You probably would be too if you had to juggle a 10 month old baby, work commitments, and getting ready to move towns.  Feeling stress is a natural reaction to my circumstances.

Yesterday it hit me that the stress I’m experiencing is why I’ve been in Blahland.  I’m fatigued, irritable, weepy, having trouble sleeping and needing lots more sleep than usual, along with having little motivation at the moment.  I haven’t run in over a week.  Not good, folks.

There is little I can do about my external circumstances right now.  Eloise can’t magically grow into a self-sufficient ‘schoolie’ overnight, nor can I avoid the palaver that naturally occurs when you move house.  Life is like that.  I know that once we have moved and are settled in our new town, my stress levels will go back down.  I simply hate moving.  It never gets any easier, and I’ve moved 28 times in my life…

I do however, need to manage this stress EXTREMELY CAREFULLY.  And I mean treat myself with kid gloves, big time.  I’ve had to kick my self-help up several notches.  I am a burnout survivor and the unfortunate result of having had burnout is that my body undergoes a huge overreaction to even the smallest stress.

It’s difficult to describe what burnout is like as it varies between people.  There seems to be a stereotype that it only happens to type-A workaholics.  This is just not true.  Burnout (also known as adrenal burnout syndrome) can happen to anyone, at any time of their life, regardless of occupation.  If you check that link out, you’ll see that even children can get burnout.

In my case it had nothing to do with my work.  Not a damn thing.  It was my life outside of work that reached epically busy proportions.  When I lived in London I spent two years being out almost every night, and pretty much every weekend as well.  I wasn’t a raging party-goer by any means, just wanting to make the most of every opportunity to go sight-seeing/flit over to Europe/visit museums and art galleries/go to concerts and lectures/volunteer/study/grow spiritually/help my church/hang out with my amazing friends/etc.  I had FOMO at its worst.  I also had a sick mother back home in New Zealand to worry about, and her being in and out of hospital while I was on the other side of the world almost sent me gaga.

I caught myself on the edge of a nervous breakdown.  You can read about how I recovered here.  It took me about a year and a half to recover.

I don’t drink coffee but I can only describe the feeling of burnout as akin to drinking 10 cups of coffee.  I felt wired all the time.  I couldn’t relax.  I had trouble falling asleep and trouble staying asleep.  My chest felt tight, like it had forgotten how to exhale.  I was exhausted all the time.  I simply cannot convey how weary in my bones I felt.  At the end of each day my body would ache as if I had just completed a day of hard, physical labour (I had a desk job).  Sleeping Beauty’s trick of sleeping for 100 years sounded not long quite long enough to me.  I lost my sense of fun.  I couldn’t concentrate.  I had no energy to do the things I previously loved.  I adore reading books and watching movies, but for a whole six months the only thing I could concentrate on without feeling exhausted afterwards was episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer as they required little thought and made me laugh.  My faith in God got me through this very dark time.

I got help from a counsellor who diagnosed me with severe adrenal burnout syndrome.  I got help because my ‘wiredness’ eventually turned into an anxiety disorder that required medication, and I was acting out in very un-Angela ways.  Lots of burnout sufferers turn to drugs and alcohol to cope, so I’m lucky I got help in time otherwise I may have gone down that path, who knows?  Now, I look back and it was like I was a completely different person.  But I didn’t go down that path.  I recovered, got off medication and have been (mostly) okay for four years.

However, recovery from burnout is not straightforward.  Many people never recover, and most people never return to the energy levels they had prior to burnout.  I myself operate on 80%.  And that’s on a good day.  The only way I can explain it is that it’s like your body has run in this state of extreme stress for so long (and it does it for ages after the original cause of the stress has gone) that it becomes your body’s default setting.  Like when  you lose data on your computer and you have to reset it to a particular date to recover what you’ve lost.  When I experience even just a small amount of stress, my body reverts to how it was during burnout.  Yeah, believe me, it’s a pain in the *ss.

So when stress strikes, it’s action stations, all hands on deck to help me manage it.  I start by invoking my first principles.  I saw a psychologist talk about these principles years ago on Oprah (so it must be true, right?).  I was only a teenager at the time, a world away from marriage and children, but what he said resonated with me at the time, and still does.

1. You need to look after yourself first.

2.  Then your significant relationship.

3. Then your children.

Now before you horrified parents out there berate me, hear me out.

Soooo many people – especially women I reckon – put everyone else first.  ‘My kids are my life’ or ‘He really needs me, I have to help him.  I’ll stop what I am doing immediately’ are things that I hear people say quite often.  This sort of thinking is bulls**t.  YOU ARE NO GOOD ANYONE ELSE IF YOU AREN’T TAKING CARE OF YOURSELF FIRST.  If you are running on empty, you can’t give to others.  It’s that simple.  I love my child so much it hurts.  But she’s not my life.  She is a wonderful part of my full life.  When I am tired and run down, I am a mediocre mother and wife.  I want better than mediocre for D and Eloise.

In my own case I’m talking about taking care of my physical health, but this principle applies to all aspects of life.  If you aren’t feeling fulfilled in your marriage or your job, or have put your hopes and dreams on hold to take care of others, any feelings of resentfulness spill over into your life.  If you are stressed out and exhausted, you’re probably going to struggle to be the best partner, parent, friend or workmate that you can be.

When you take care of yourself first (whether it’s something like taking the time to rest, or starting that French class you always wanted to take) and are feeling okay with life, this positively affects the relationships you have with others.  When I take care of myself by doing things that I find life-giving, then I bring that into my relationship with D.  When D and I are doing great, that spills into how we care for Eloise (who is a very happy and contented bubba, I must add), and into my work, my friendships, serving others – you get the picture.

Right now I need lots of rest.  I am not going to beat myself up for not running, although I hope to go tomorrow.  If I find it totally exhausts my body – as vigorous exercise can when you have burnout – I will take a break for a few days more.  I am fortunate enough to be in a position where I can potter about slowly with my work at the moment.  I’m also blessed to have lots of family around to help with Eloise.  I’ve scheduled in a couple of chat-fests with my friends.  Housework can get stuffed.  And I will ease up on my blogging for a bit.

If you are feeling a bit burnt out, lose the guilt and indulge in some ME time.  Sometimes being selfish is the best thing you can do for others.

Going Home

31 Saturday Aug 2013

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D didn’t get the job with a big multinational IT company – although given the dreadful recruitment process, D was wondering if he wanted to work for them anyway.  He made it through several rounds of interviews, so we were feeling hopeful about being able to move to a small town where we could afford to buy a house.

When they said ‘No’, I was bummed out.  Ok, that’s an understatement.  I was devastated.

It felt like our dream of moving to my home town (where we can buy a house without a mortgage) was slipping away.  House prices in Wellington are off-the-charts-ridiculous, and with D’s income potentially being halved in 6 years time when he becomes a Minister, we’re not in a position to take on a massive mortgage.

One of the reasons we want to move is to simply to slow down and enjoy the gentler pace of life that small towns offer.  I’ve lived in several big cities before so Wellington seems rather tame compared with them, but D wants to say ‘see ya’ to the Wellington rat race.  New Zealand is blessed with space, and we’d like lots of it for Eloise to run around in.  I’m constantly trying to find balance in my life, and the support of family we can find in my hometown will be a great help.

Fortunately after the ‘No’, we were not without options.  D took the opportunity to ask his boss if he could do his current job remotely, and his boss said ‘Yes!’.  It helps that D works for a New Zealand IT company that is rapidly expanding overseas.  They have opened offices in several countries already, and have more in the pipeline.  The company needs to get working with off-site employees right, so D is going to be a handy test-case to help improve their current processes.

Naturally there is much excitement in our household!  We were even more thrilled with D’s Mum announced that she too was thinking of moving there!  I know lots of people have dreadful MIL’s, but I love mine to pieces.  My MIL is coming up to retirement age, and has been seriously thinking of selling her large house in Wellington and moving elsewhere.  When she saw the house prices in my home town, she thought ‘hmmmm, why not?’  She’s a nurse and should be able to pick up some work.  By the time we eventually move on again from there, she should be happily ensconced in her new community.

wanganui_city_nz

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Part of me cannot believe that I am moving back to my hometown considering I spent most of my teenage years being desperate to get out of it!  Even as a young child I can remember thinking that I was never going to live there as an adult.  I wanted more than it could offer.

My parents are history buffs (it was years before I realised not everyone’s family holidays involved trips to museums or stopping at EVERY historical marker on the road), and my Dad in particular is passionate about learning about other cultures.  When he was 9 he spent a year travelling the globe with his parents.  Back in the 1950’s travelling like that was rare, and he has wonderful stories about being shown around the White House by Mamie Eisenhower, and shooting guns at the FBI headquarters shooting range with J. Edgar Hoover himself.  All true, I swear.

Growing up with his travel stories meant I developed itchy feet at a very young age.  I thought my hometown was boring, and people who stayed there were ‘losers’.   I was going to get out at the first opportunity.  I was blessed to go on an exchange to America during my last year of High School, and afterwards left my hometown to go to University.   I never looked back.

It’s funny how your priorities change when you get older.  I returned to live in New Zealand after spending several years in the UK because I got quite a shock when I came back for a quick holiday.  My parents were getting old.  My mother was struggling with complications after heart surgery, and my formerly fit Dad’s knee had packed it in and had him hobbling around like he was 90.  I was suffering from severe burnout myself at the time and knew moving back to NZ would help my recovery, but I also thought ‘I don’t want to be standing at my precious Dad’s funeral thinking I wish I’d spent more time with you‘.

I see my family quite a bit already, but I’m looking forward to being able to see them whenever I want.  My brother and sister-in-law are there too, as are my aunties and cousins.  Eloise will spend her first years being surrounded by family, who are totally besotted with her.

I know that small-town living will annoy me from time to time, but I am also mindful that the ‘boring’ hometown of my youth is no more.  My hometown had quite a renaissance after I left and is now a much more happening place, with a vibrant art scene.

Maybe going home will be more of an adventure than I could ever have anticipated.

What sugar does to me

20 Tuesday Aug 2013

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What a weekend!

Normally I am careful not to schedule too much over a weekend, due to recovering from burnout.  But this weekend was a fun-filled, female extravaganza!  On Saturday I saw a show with friends, and then went to an epic girl’s night; and spent Sunday afternoon at an art exhibition with more friends.  D was great about being left with Eloise most of the weekend so I was free to enjoy myself without any ‘mummy guilt’.

On Saturday night I caught up with friends that I haven’t seen in ages – isn’t that just the best thing for your soul?  We had a blast painting our nails, drinking champagne and watching ‘Pitch Perfect’.  Bliss.  Being a girl’s night it also involved lots of indulgent food.

I didn’t have much time to prepare anything, so I whipped up another version of Alex’s Raw Banana Cream Pie, because its so quick to make.  The theme of the evening was pink (my friend’s partner made himself scarce to avoid pinkness overload), so I threw in some frozen raspberries to make the filling pink.

I managed to take a decent picture of it this time!

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I was in an indulgent mood (no doubt aided by champagne!) and tried some of the other desserts on offer.  I had some strawberry and white chocolate cheesecake, and some strawberries filled with chocolate mousse.  I’m not gonna lie – they were delicious.  I didn’t overdo it though, as they were both very rich.

To my surprise, I felt fine the next day.  Perhaps I can eat a bit of sugar and still be ok, I wondered.  Nope.

On Monday I woke feeling like I hadn’t slept a wink.  Instead of going for a run, I turned off the alarm, rolled over and tried to get back to sleep.  The feeling of lethargy stayed with me all day.  My body ached, especially around my joints.  I was much hungrier than usual, needing snacks in the afternoon as well as after dinner.  I really craved some chocolate.

Today (Tuesday) I still have that slug-like feeling, although I dragged my butt out of bed and went for a 20 minute run.  I think your Grandma could probably have passed me in her walker, I was going so slow.  I’m still hungrier than usual, but so far haven’t needed any snacks.  My body feels like it could do with a decent massage though.

It will be interesting to see how long the effects of that sugar linger in my body.  Some people report taking a week to get back to normal, others take two weeks.

Most of us have had a lifetime of eating sugar.  It’s hard to fathom what it must have done to my body for all those years, if you look at the reaction I had to just a little bit of sugar.  It blows my mind.  I was so caught in the sugar rush/crash cycle it obviously felt normal to me.

I’d like to be able to avoid eating sugar all the time, but I have two very special occasions coming up where I intend to eat more sugar.  My brother’s 40th birthday is in three weeks and I’m pretty damn sure I will eat a piece of the cake I’m making for him.  Then at the end of September I am flying to Australia for a friend’s wedding.  Instead of presents, the bride and groom have asked us to pay for our meals.  As my meal is costing about $120 NZ dollars, I feel compelled to eat everything they give us!  And yes, I know I could simply not eat birthday or wedding cake, but it’s not like my brother turns 40 or I go to overseas weddings every day.

After these events it will be smooth sailing until Christmas, but I’m resigned to feeling a bit rubbish for some of September.

Hope

29 Monday Jul 2013

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I’ve finally lost some more weight.  About 500g, which is not to be sniffed at.

I feel hopeful that more weight loss will happen, and hopeful that I am making lifelong changes to my way of eating.

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I’ve certainly experienced many benefits since going sugar-free: more appetite control, more energy, fewer mood swings, and clearer skin.  In the past week since cutting down on carbs I’ve noticed that I don’t need morning tea at all.  Around 11am I think ‘hmm, I’m a little hungry’ but that’s about it.  I don’t actually need to eat anything.

I’m hopeful that I will keep on running.  I had to go back to Week 2 of Couch to 5 k because I got sick, but I didn’t let it stop me for long.  I had a great run this morning – one of those runs where you lose track of time and get a surprise when the app says your time is up.

Man, I LOVE hope!  I’ve been hopeless, that’s for sure…(this where the flashback wavy lines in a movie would appear.)

As a young teen I am convinced I am fat.  I’m not, but in my mind I don’t ‘measure’ up to all skinny girls in my class who were cool and popular with the boys.  I certainly don’t look like the girls do in Cosmo.  I try several different diets and exercise plans.  The only time I lose weight and kept it off for a while is due to doing an Aerobics class at my high school in America every day (yes, that is a legitimate class over there).  Lord knows how, as I also discover pizza at the same time…

After I come home from America I am really unhappy.  I want to stay over there, but my visa conditions won’t allow it.  I eat.  I put on all the weight I’d lost, and then some.

When I start university, I put on more weight.  I am too busy studying and having fun with my friends to exercise.  But it’s not much fun being the one overlooked by the guys who go for my skinnier friends instead.  I hate on myself for my lack of willpower.  If only I could develop some discipline I would be thin.  If I was x kilos lighter, life would be better etc.  I join a gym, but it’s quite far away so I don’t go often.  Finally, I do Jenny Craig for a while and exercise regularly at home, and lose 20 kilos.  But I can’t afford to keep paying for all that Jenny Craig food (and my word, it is terrible!).  I put on weight and get too down about myself to exercise any more.

After university I spend a year living in Korea and lose weight.  It’s hard not to when you eat their food.  But when I come home…disaster.  I get really sick (I believe the dreadful pollution in the city I lived in seriously compromised my immune system.  When you are used to breathing clean NZ air, it must have been a massive shock to my body).  And I mean sick.  That year I develop hypothyroidism, only I don’t know it.  It runs in my family, but it’s very unusual for it to develop in someone so young.  I put on probably 15 kilos or more that year.  I am so tired I hardly have the energy to do anything.  Walking to the bus stop to get to and fro from work is an effort.

I get worse and worse, and one day finally think ‘hmm, I wonder if it’s my thyroid’.  I  beg my doctor to let me take a blood test.  Yes, my thyroid has packed it in.  I  am put on medication, but it takes a long time for it to have any noticeable effect.  Actually, it takes several years as they can never get the levels right.  I’m a tricky case and need my medication tweaked all the time, whereas most hypothyroid people are fine with just a yearly check-up.

So by this time I am seriously, seriously obese.  I can barely walk a block without getting puffed.  I can’t even look at myself in the mirror.  I stop buying clothes altogether because nothing fits me.  In desperation I join a gym just down the road from my apartment and that helps me shed some kilos and gets me into a more mobile state.  I’m still overweight.  I still hate my life.  I have a full life: good job, lots to do, and really great friends, but I believe that no man could ever love me as I’m repulsive.  So I don’t even try to meet any one.

I move to the UK to get out of this rut and it helps.  I live in London for several years and need to walk most places so I get fitter.  I also decide diets don’t work and give up on them altogether.  But after a while, I get burnout because I suffer from FOMO and basically spend every spare minute sight-seeing/hanging out with my friends/volunteering/going to church and church-related activities/studying/stressing out about my sick Mum back home.  I am out almost every night.  I realise that over a 6 month period I was only home for more than two nights in a row…ONCE.  I catch myself just in time from having a nervous breakdown.  I try various ways to get over the burnout which include moving out of London, cutting down my commitments, eating healthier food (low-fat of course, as that’s good for you, right?), and trying to get my thyroid medication right.

None of it works.

I’m still fat, still lonely, still hating myself.  I comfort eat and hate myself with every mouthful.  And I am still to-the-bone-exhausted.

Eventually I decide that if I am going to get over burnout I need to go home to New Zealand and live the quiet life.  I come home.  Totally broke.  I get a job at my old work.  I start going to my local church.  And that’s all I do.  Nothing else.  I go to church and go to work.  But I am not well.  I start doing quite bizarre, un-Angela type things.  After a harsh ‘friendtervention’, I get counselling.  My counsellor is awesome and I discover that my burnout has turned into an anxiety disorder.  I start taking antidepressants.  I start to emerge from the fog and after six months no longer need the medication.  I feel myself again and start to exercise.

I meet a lovely young man called D.  We become friends, fall in love and get married.  I enter into the happiest time of my life (still is).

But I’m still fat and can’t lose weight.   I still comfort eat, and my consumption of junk food increases when I get an office to myself.  There’s no one to see me eat!  I scoff packets of biscuits and lollies and hide the evidence.   Eventually I feel completely hopeless when I realise that I am STARVING an hour after eating breakfast every morning.  I eat morning tea at 9am, and need to buy another lunch as I’ve eaten my packed lunch by 11am.  I decide I am a lost cause. My doctor recommends a book called Sweet Poison by David Gillespie.  I read it and suddenly I have hope.

Giving up sugar is one of the best things I have ever done.  I had no idea just how addicted to sugar I was.  There was NO way I could have lost weight and ate sensibly on my old ‘diets’ as they were low fat, and therefore riddled with sugar.  Sure, giving up sugar requires a bit of willpower at first, but after a while it becomes, well, easy-peasy.  I fall off the wagon for a time, but eventually get back on it and have been sugar-free for quite a while now.

I feel in control of my eating.  I don’t get anxious about when I will get my next meal.  I don’t spend lots of mental energy craving sweets or planning dessert.  Even my comfort-eating seems to be easier to control.

Giving up sugar has given me hope.  This is the first ‘diet’ (I hate that word) that I feel is remotely sustainable.  It hasn’t been hard or filled with cravings.  I hope that I will lose more weight.  In fact, eating the way that I do, I can’t see how I can fail at this.  I hope that as the weight comes off and I get fitter by running; I will be able to keep up with my daughter when she moves into the toddler years.  I hope I will have the energy to take her for bike rides, and to run around a park, and challenge her to swimming races.  I hope that this lifestyle lasts, but I am encouraged by the fact that  I have no cravings that tempt me back to my old ways.

Wow, so this has turned into a looong post.  But you get the gist.  I’m feeling hopeful.

Love is fixing your wife’s laptop

28 Friday Jun 2013

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Shortly after my last post, my laptop – I call him Nigel* – froze, and when rebooted refused to start up.  D pronounced Nigel dead at the scene, saying I either needed a new hard drive or  I should trade Nigel in for a sleeker, sexier model.  I protested.  I couldn’t part with Nigel!  Nigel and I have been through so much together.  Nigel was there during my darkest days of burnout.  He was there when I recovered.  He’s seen me get married and have a child.  We have history, man.  Besides, Nigel has all my photos.

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I felt almost naked without Nigel.  How would I write my blog?  I love writing my blog, it’s like free therapy.  With nice, encouraging people thrown in.  It helps me keep track of how I’m doing, and keeps me honest.  Also, how would I cope without my latest obsession of checking to see where in the world people are reading my blog? (Hello, Estonia.  Thanks for stopping by.)

Fortunately D is a ridiculously-clever-genius-computer-guru, so he spent the last couple of days working like a trojan to fix it.  I was in a bad mood about something else so he felt a little underwhelmed by my appreciation of his mad skills.  Sorry D.  You’re awesome.  Thank you for your expertise and time.

I was in a total grump about something yesterday and I ate everything I could get my hands on.  Sugar free of course.  Gah!  Comfort eating seems to be so ingrained in me.  I know I’m doing it, I sit down and identify why, but still I eat.  I really hope I can conquer this.
The only shining light in my sad pity party was that I didn’t cave in and eat chocolate, my usual go-to balm back in my addicted days.

I was foiled by rain today in my running ambitions, but I intend to go for a run first thing tomorrow.  I’m actually looking forward to it.

This post is rather random, but the moral of the story is:  Marry a computer geek.  And try not to stuff your face when you’re having a bad day.

* I always name electrical appliances and cars.  It’s way more fun to get mad at ‘Nigel’ or ‘Boris’ when they don’t work.  Try it, you’ll see.

Easter: Growth, meltdowns and changes

09 Monday Apr 2012

Posted by in Work/Life balance

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Happy Easter everyone, I hope you have all enjoyed a good break.

Mine has been lovely (mostly) – helped by the unseasonably fine weather.  Easter in New Zealand is usually wet, but I’ve been walking around in t-shirts all weekend.  I  worked for a couple of hours on Saturday, but other than that, I’ve had lots of time to potter around the house and relax.

When I say relax, I mean blitzing the garden, baking bread, visiting friends, having friends over, cleaning the house,doing several loads of washing, more gardening …etc.  As I’ve mentioned before, doing ‘nothing’ is quite difficult for me.

As a burn out survivor, I am constantly learning how to be still.  

(Photo credit)

It’s quite a process, and even after 2 1/2 years of recovery, that mythical balance I hear so much about is still elusive.  I’m learning to be gentle with myself and not take new commitments or fill up my week with social engagements.

A few weeks ago, I took a radical step in this being-nice-to-myself-and-finding-balance process.  I quit my job.

It feels somewhat nuts to quit my job while there’s a recession on and I have no job to go to, but I know that it’s the right thing to do for me.  I currently work in social services, which is a very rewarding field.  It’s also a very demanding field.  Most people I know in this sector regularly work over and above their contracted hours.  You have to, as social services are usually underfunded and understaffed.

I love the clients I work with, but have been feeling as if my job has taken over my life.   I constantly think about my work projects.  How I can help my clients more.  Whether such-and-such is ok sleeping rough when it’s wet and cold outside.

I work late(ish)  two nights a week and have to work a few hours on Saturdays.  The Saturday thing REALLY cuts into my family life.  You can’t go out of town on a whim, go on a rambling walk, spend as long as you want with a friend etc.  Getting to work is always in the back of mind on Saturdays.

All this means that I’ve been feeling like I have no time or head-space for anyone or anything else.  I feel like I’ve neglected many of my friends, and certainly haven’t been free to pile into the car and spend a weekend with my family when I want to.

This long weekend has reaffirmed that I am doing the right thing.  I revelled in the simple pleasures of weeding my garden and planting seedlings; de-cluttering my wardrobe; making loaves of bread; doing my husband’s chores because he is busy studying; D and I taking a picnic lunch today where we sat in the sun and cloud-watched, just because we could.

These are things I used to do before I got this job.

I’ve decided to work part-time for now at any rate, and have put in a few applications for some interesting jobs.

D and I are part of a Christian community that lives alongside urban poor, and while my current job has allowed me to get to know many of the people that we work with in my community, my job doesn’t allow me to be friends with them (very frowned upon).  I’m looking forward to just journeying alongside some of them – not as a service provider, but now as a friend.  I’m looking forward to having the time to simply hang out with them.

Of course, not having a job (I finish up in 2 weeks) is stressful, and I’m praying that I find one very, very soon.  It puts a lot of pressure on D, who would love to be working less himself as he is currently doing two university papers.  Both he and I had meltdowns yesterday.

I’ve been struggling with my lack of fertility, and was surrounded by babies and children at Church yesterday.  When you are desperate to have kids, it’s incredibly painful to be around them at times.  There was a really cute baby literally in my face, whose proud parents looked like they could have been D and I.  It was actually more than I could take.  I started to cry and had to leave the service.  During the service we were given a tiny chocolate Easter egg, and instead of leaving it behind, I shoved it in my mouth as I sat crying in the car.  Comfort eater?  Moi?

D had a meltdown later, as he too is trying to find that elusive balance.  He’s a bit behind in his uni readings, and is scrambling to catch up.  It’s not exactly restful to spend your Easter break studying.  Unfortunately, his studies are non-negotiable.  D is studying to be a Minister, and can’t do that without a theology degree.

One thing that is going right for me, is being sugar-free.  I think it’s been yet another way to nurture myself.  I feel good about myself, my health, and my body for the first time in years.  Aside from that little chocolate egg and a dinner guest bringing jelly for dessert which I felt obliged to eat, I have managed to steer clear of the sugar-fest that is Easter.  I may still desire a hot cross bun like there’s no tomorrow, but I’ve managed to resist without feeling too deprived.  My dextrose crumble was well-received last night, as was my dextrose bread.  My weight-loss is back on track (the de-cluttering my wardrobe is a result of many of my clothes not fitting me any more).