Working in public health, I’m familiar with the chronic pressure that burnout has put on individuals – including myself – due to the added difficulties of just existing as a human today. Sometimes it feels like everything is just unnecessarily challenging – work days blend into one another, the world is on fire, and of course my dog just puked on the rug because god forbid we have nice things in this house, right?

Even though I know I’m burnt out, I personally have such a hard time communicating this at the workplace. Part of it stems from the typical people pleasing mentality of “I don’t want to bum out the people around me, this too shall pass!” But, anyone that works with me knows that when cornered, I spill all my secrets in a heartbeat, so that only goes so far.

But, part of it is a more sinister amalgamation that stems – for me – for working in a field that I actually care about. A colleague and work friend recently shared this article from Anne Helen Petersen where Anne Helen discussed how “passion jobs are prime for exploitation,” and this fundamentally shaped how I viewed my own burnout. For me, it is hard to admit I am truly burnt out – every once in a while, I hit a wall with my work, get mad, get depressed, swear up and down to my partner that this will be the time that I finally try that new fancy thing the kids call quiet quitting, and then, I don’t. It doesn’t take much time to pass before something at my work snaps me out of my funk and I’m back to being my overly eager and nerdy self at work, biting off far too many projects than I can chew.

How can I be burnt out when after just a few days, I feel fine?

To the point of Anne Helen’s article – I’m not actually fine. I’m not okay. But by focusing on the greater goal of my work – that passion – I’m able to focus all energy on trying to make something good come from the sometimes Prometheus-eqsue experience of working in the public sector. Sure – my coworkers and I get our psychological livers eaten every day, but if we can give the people we serve an even marginally better life, isn’t it worth it?

That martyrdom is something that we cling to in the public sector as a reason that we are okay with the professional shortcomings that we find ourselves in. We accept lower salaries, we accept red tape like it’s going out of fashion, we accept wearing so many different hats in our roles that we’re buried in them, we accept all of these things that add onto the stresses of life for the sake of trying to make the world maybe a slightly better place. If we keep doing our jobs, just maybe it’ll happen!

And don’t get me wrong – that’s my reason for being in the public sector, too. Outside of the bonds I have with my team, the possibility to make life just slightly better for someone that I may never meet is why I’m here too. Even though I’m early in the middle of my career, I spent long enough (spoilers: it didn’t take very long) in the private sector to know that I would never be personally satisfied counting the number of widgets that a company sold or tallying up how many dollars the parent of a sick kiddo owes for medical treatment.

But, this creates a toxically positive headspace. With this reasoning, I have acknowledged that I am accepting less than what I otherwise could have in another life. And in doing that, I feel selfish. I feel it in my stomach – a slight twist of my gut as I cringe, mentally berating myself for fixating on something that shouldn’t matter to me as much as working for the public. I tell myself I am so spoiled and I have it so good – I have a team that looks out for each other, I have opportunity to grow, I’m in a field that interests me, I can make my job whatever I want, I can feel fulfilled. How could I possibly want more than that?

When the excitement from a work project fades or I’m shocked back to a neutral state at work that pulls me out of the bliss of doing something that feels good, these are the mental gymnastics that I am left with.

For me, this is where my burnout hides whenever I feel “okay.”

I realized that I handle my burnout with somewhat of a mental first aid kit today. Whenever I emotionally fall and scrape my knee because a staff member that I was close with left the agency or I see data that I really would rather have not seen, I cover up that pain with a bandaid and can distract myself with all kinds of exciting and important things until I feel better. When seeing public perception of our agency wobble gives me a headache, I can pop a mental Advil and work on a technical project for a few hours and it’s probably going to be okay, right?

While I wouldn’t say this is a healthy system, it’s a functional one for me. Until it isn’t. When enough damage is done that I break a bone, a colorful bandaid won’t let me ignore that pain.

So, I know it’s not healthy. What am I going to do about it?

I don’t know.

On the topic of burnout, Mayo Clinic recommends evaluating lifestyle and work changes to try to reduce stress. Cleveland Clinic recommends taking more time for yourself through exercise, boundaries, hobbies, and routines. As a late-diagnosed ADHD’er, these are things I know I need to work on anyway, so these recommendations come as little surprise – and some disappointment – to my instant gratification-seeking heart.

In addition to these things, I think it’s also important to be kind to yourself. My own burnout is accelerated by pressure I put on myself and guilt for having thoughts about what I do and don’t deserve. If I am working so desperately hard with a team trying to create positive change, why would I think I’m not also deserving of positive change?

While this post was mostly just a stream of COVID-fueled semi-consciousness, I wanted to finally get some of this on digital paper as I bandage up another workplace wound. Because when things feel good in this line of work – there’s no better feeling. But things can’t stay positive forever, and how we support each other during the low times is just as important as how we celebrate the highs.