I’m burnt out. Pooped. Crashed. Fatigued. There. It took me a week and a half since I got back to finally admit it. Nearly a year of non-stop upheaval — writing up, moving to a new town, adjusting to a new job, coping with glacially slow bureaucracies, and financial strain, are taking their toll. And the end to the latter two are not yet in sight. Even now I’m writing this on my laptop in a bed I can’t bear to get out of (the wonders of wireless). All I want is to stay under the covers and eat cookies and read comics, but I’ve got deadlines. Oh woe!

Depression just isn’t my style; usually, I get so sick of feeling sorry for myself, I pull back from the cliff’s edge. An afternoon of energetic house-cleaning usually works to dispel the gloom. Did that last Sunday — nope, didn’t work this time. As I’ve been struggling to crawl out of bed this past week, I’ve also been struggling to re-establish my regular yoga and meditation practice, which was disrupted in the three weeks I was away. It’s a vicious (or virtuous) circle, depending on how you look at it. The practice will alleviate the inertia, but the inertia obstructs the practice.

I’ve considered just letting my body sleep as much as it wants and ride out the cycle, but sleep’s been fitful, churning out the most vivid and colourful dreams I’ve had in a long time, and I wake up only to bury myself further under the covers. A better option is probably to start over with 5 minutes of meditation a day, instead of beating myself up over not being able to sit for more. I think I’ll try and do that after posting this.

As for the deadlines, they still have to be met, but I like to see them as beacons in the foggy mist. If I can only get to them in one piece, I’ll be okay.


One Response to Burnout

  1. Pingback: Five minutes is forever « A Question of Mindfulness

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