Burnout: On Learning to Slow Down in the Midst of a Scary Future
I live and die by my Google calendar; it’s the only thing that keeps me attached to my day to day life. This spring, I was getting ready to take my last final exam of my undergraduate career. In my calendar, I had blocked off my meal times, a phone call with my mom, and two hours in the afternoon saved as “sleep or cry.” I was a week out from graduating, and I disappointingly realized that I had nothing lined up for afterwards. I was barely pushing through one day at a time, to even consider trying to find a job.
Ever since I was 14, I’ve been interning and volunteering and working and studying— stretching and squishing time to find some where there is none. And I’m not alone in this. In 2014 “77 percent of high school students are either extremely or very interested in volunteering to gain work experience” and anecdotally, I know that my friends and peers have been working or interning since early high school.
Why are we as a society obsessed with being busy? Or rather, we’re obsessed with not falling behind. Many have attempted to explain this millennial dihlemma: studies have reported that being busy is a status symbol, and people are ashamed of taking time off. In fact, younger employees were much more likely (59%) to feel ashamed for taking or planning a vacation than workers 35 or older (41%). What’s more, value is only assigned to what is profitable. Hobbies have become side hustles, and everything is monetized. There’s no such thing as free time because, as your dad likes to tell you, nothing is free.
It’s hard for me to pinpoint why I personally overworked myself. I think it’s partially because I was ashamed being an Anthropology major, embarrassed that people would think it’s an “easy major” or that social sciences are dying. Or maybe if I was still for too long, the uncertain future would come into focus. I wasn’t ready for the light at the end of the tunnel. In fact, I liked my tunnel! Inside of it I knew all the best coffee spots and the quietest corners of the library and the tallest trees. To me it seemed the best way to avoid uncertainty was to just ignore it.
It’s no one’s fault except for capitalism, (who, in my opinion, is always to blame). We’re all put on a conveyor belt, forced to run ourselves down, and forget we didn’t want to run in the first place. Americans today are working longer hours, and retiring later than they have in the past, and compared to other countries today.
There’s been a lot of studies done about this, and the facts say that more time off makes for happier, more productive people (breaks at improve productivity, vacations in warm areas improve productivity AND reduce exhaustion). It seems to me a difference in cultural priorities. In Spain and the Middle East, there’s a designated word that means afternoon nap (siesta and qualulah, respectively). Alternatively, the Swedish word of fika refers to the intentional time of taking a break and slowing down with a coffee and pastry. Language is indicative of culture, and ours has been lacking specific words to describe self-prioritization (though, things are moving in the right direction).
In college, I tried to take breaks when I could. They were always in excess, trying to make up for all the hours of sleep I’d missed, the meals I skipped, and the sunshine I never saw but craved. I got stuck in awful, unhealthy cycles—round and round until I got flushed down the toilet of life. I’d only eat unhealthy food, thinking that if I had enough cheese quesadillas from Taco Bell I would forget about the impending doom of entering the “real world”; that if I watched Gilmore Girls and ate raw cookie dough I could just live in the cliché and I’d never have to deal with my actual feelings.
What’s more, is that I suffered alone. I was tuned in enough to not realize that a lot of people were also afraid of the future or felt inadequate as they approached the end of their academic careers, and yet I isolated myself. Friends would ask, “how do you do it all” and I’d deflect with a joke. I felt like a bear balancing on a ball at the circus, completely uncoordinated and sure that if anyone looked hard enough I’d lose my footing and everything would topple over. My feelings of inadequacy overpowered any sense of logic I had. I would rather completely ignore the feelings than acknowledge them in public, or with another person. And so I suffered alone.
My inability to deal with my future gave me the break I hadn’t realized I needed. Now my Google calendar is clear—I wake early and exercise, I’ve rediscovered old interests and found new hobbies. I’m applying to jobs that I’m interested in. I am productive until I need a break, and I take a break until I’m ready to work again. This is all new to me, and of course there is a learning curve, but so far so good! Letting ourselves follow the ebbs and flows of feelings, productivity, and energy means that we’re working at our greatest potential. I realize my privilege, to have somewhere to stay and not have to worry about rent or bills (for now), but I think the message stands on its own: make time and space for breaks in your life. Find moments of peace, and live at your own pace. You deserve it, and I do too.
About the Author
Luna Homsi (she/her) is a recent Anthropology graduate from the University of Maryland. She believes the world is made better and brighter when people share their experiences. Her main academic/research interests are in health equity and social justice. Feel free to connect with her on Twitter!
