"Burnout is defined as the reduction of fuel or substance needed to keep going. It is a term for engines. In the late 1970s, this phenomenon became a psychological term to describe people in service professions who in essence "run out of fuel" in season of prolonged stress without sufficient recovery. The Covid-19 pandemic has increased the rate of burnout especially in the medical and education professions."
I closed my eyes and sighed, strongly identifying with the messaging. I listened closely as the psychologist continued.
"Burnout symptoms include physical and emotional exhaustion, compassion fatigue, reduced performance, and somatic symptoms. Physical manifestations of burnout are very individualized but often include headache, GI distress, and unexplained chronic pain."
Oh, for God's sakes. That's me.
"The etiology of burnout is simple enough - prolonged stress without proper refueling. Our bodies, like vehicles, must be recharge and refueled to sustain the pace life requires. When the gas light comes on, you should slow down and look for a chance to refuel. But sometimes the driving stressor is relentless and difficult to evade - like in the case of being responsible for the needs of others chronically or trying to survive a novel crisis like a global pandemic. In essence, that is what we are seeing the most right now. Healthcare workers and teachers who have simply been doing what their patients and students need to survive as well as trying to meet the needs of their family - and what was acute survival mode became chronic and continues even now over a year later."
I felt numb as I heard these words. I certainly could identify as a full-time working medical professor with three young kids, and a partner in medicine. 2020-2021 required me to troubleshoot day and night to navigate rotations for 80 clinical PA students at a time when PPE was in short supply and preceptors were hesitant to allow learners. I tallied endless hours of phone conversations with anxious students as they dealt with sick loved ones, quarantine struggles, isolation, reduced academic performance and political tension. Simultaneously, I had to transition 73 didactic PA students online and provide the same level of virtual support as they navigated their own challenges. I slept very little often working at night since my kids were sent home from school and daycare for much of the year, and my partner's schedule as a physician did not provide any flexibility to help at home as he was confined to a room locked into telehealth visits and charting. It was hard to ask for help from family members or outside babysitters because of the mandates to socially distance and the risk of passing on any of my kids' germs to vulnerable populations.
I kept pushing and praying and giving each day my all because that what resilience requires - I did it because I care about the students entrusted to me, I care about my kids, and I care about my community. And yet, the body keeps the score and has its limits. And now two and a half years into that outrageous pace, I ran out of gas.
"The treatment for burnout is multifaceted and challenging because no one becomes burnt out acutely - and no one recovers quickly." the psychologist concluded.
No one recovers quickly, indeed.
I arrived to campus and parked my Rav 4 in a spot looking out on the city. I sat there a while trying to gather my focus and motivation to walk to my office and do this day. I felt sad that I am in this place of burnout, depression and chronic pain, and I felt a wave of shame over not being able to set boundaries somehow to prevent it. All the hype about self-care that I preach to others, and I was not able to figure out how to do it myself.
I increased my SSRI. I made an appointment with my PCP. I filled out the forms for counseling. And now I have to walk the long, uncomfortable and somewhat lonely road of recovery. I am proud of the work I have done at UAB and the work I do every day for my family. I know much of this is not my fault but rather what difficulty unprecedented circumstances demanded. Even so, I cannot escape the grief of the cost.
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