June
Exhaustion, overwhelm, and the magic of asking for help.
When I first sat down to write this newsletter I was going to title it “sunshine, rainbows, and roses”. Mostly because I felt that the accurate title for how my month had been would be a little on the bleak side. Because I have, in fact, been feeling quite bleak. Pasting on a smile and trying to keep going without mentioning to anyone how difficult you’re finding pretty much everything will cause that. So, having already acknowledged that I’ve been struggling elsewhere on the web, I decided that it might help - both me and other people - if I talked about it here too.
I’m not exactly sure when it started because it wasn’t sudden. No lightening bolt from the blue striking me down, just a slow incremental build up of exhaustion and overwhelm that was initially ignorable until, about two weeks ago, I realised I’d got to the point where it very much wasn’t.
I don’t know if the exhaustion was causing the overwhelm or if the overwhelm was causing the exhaustion but I felt as if I was trapped in a catch-22 downward spiral, digging myself deeper into what already seemed a pretty inescapable hole. The realisation that I was in danger of dragging other people down there with me took me to my tipping point.
I was snapping at people who really did not deserve to be snapped at. I was close to tears most of the time and forgetting words, appointments and - occasionally - where I was going. My anxiety was through the roof. My sleep, never brilliant at the best of times, had become so fractured and nightmare filled I’d find myself actually avoiding it.
My routines weren’t holding me up any more, instead the ones that hadn’t already become unusable were grinding me further down. I desperately wanted some time away from it all but in the current circumstances that was not remotely possible. Even my guard-rail if-all-else-fails-this-will-work backstop, the “just keep on keeping on, push through and simply tell yourself you can manage until you believe it” positivity talk, had no effect at all.
I didn’t know what to do to fix any of it and I was so tired, so deeply miserable and completely spent, that I did something fairly radical for me. I asked for help.
Well, if we’re being nitpicky about it, what I actually did first was ask for advice via a tweet. It was worded thus:
Does anyone have any tips on keeping going when you’re exhausted but significant rest time genuinely isn’t an option? No diet suggestions please, I’m already on that, but any and all other advice gratefully received #Exhaustion #KeepingOn #KeepingGoing
Not only did I get advice in the replies - which I’m going to share in a moment - I also got offers of help, reminders that my friends are there for me whenever I need them, and a general outpouring of kindness that went a long way to shoring up my metaphorical last straw that was so close to breaking. I was reminded that the phrase I’m so fond of using - it takes a village - is as true for me as it for everyone else, and that I don’t have to be one offering the help all the time. I’m allowed to accept it, too.
That one tweet - such a small thing - could generate such meaningful, caring responses that they broke through the dark clouds stifling me and let in enough light to help me see my way forward, felt like the truest form of magic.
If you’re wondering why I tweeted to the world at large rather than message one of my friends directly, well … because a tweet is easier to ignore.
One of the things that often prevents me from talking about how I’m feeling when I’m overwhelmed is the fear that I will be an unwelcome burden. My brain weasels (which only hold sway when I’m at low ebb) are very good at convincing me that despite the fact I’ve never once minded any of my friends getting in touch with me - regardless of what they’re getting in touch about or how well or otherwise I am - if I get in touch with them they will hate me forever. In that state of mind texting one person, or whatsapp-ing my friend group, feels the same as bursting through their door unannounced and demanding their undivided attention, whether they have the time and energy for me or not.
Tweeting, on the other hand, despite being visible to anyone, doesn’t feel as if it transfers obligation in the same way. If you’re online when I tweet then you might see it. If you’re on twitter then you’ve probably got time to answer if you want to. If you’re not then I haven’t inturrupted your day and all is well.
What it boils down to, if I’m being brutally honest, is that tweeting feels less like taking up time and space I’m not entitled to.
I am aware, written down, that sentence makes me sound utterly ridiculous, if not a bit hysterical. But that’s the thing, when you’re at breaking point, ridiculous seems perfectly reasonable. Finding any way to communicate to others that you need help when you’re in that state can only be a good thing. And I’m so thankful I did it and it worked.
Because, even before I received any responses to the tweet, just sending it made an immediate difference. The act of writing down that I was struggling, the acknowledgement of where I was, mentally and physically, relieved me of a tiny part of the burden. I was no longer holding it all to myself and it was enough to loosen the band of terror that had been tightening around me for weeks. I was able to take a breath and the idea of unpacking a bit more of the load stopped seeming as unachievable as climbing Everest.
The responses, when they came, sped up the process immeasurably. Every single suggestion was probably something that, had I been in the right headspace to do it, I could have thought of for myself. But I wasn’t. I barely keeping a coherent train of thought by that point so each one - all small, practical things - arrived on my screen like a jewel-bright gift:
Lower your standards for the basics; as long as you’re fed and watered, and your living space isn’t going to make you ill, that’s enough. A bit of dust and muddle isn’t going to hurt anyone.
Try and be realistic about what you can and can't do. Some things can't be avoided but it's amazing how much we expect of ourselves which isn't necessary.
Accept that you can’t work at the level you had been previously, identify how much you can manage in a day that won’t leave you broken for the days following, and try to work at that pace going forward. Slow and steady wins the race here.
Remember, if something is worth doing, it's worth doing poorly. Doing something is better than doing nothing, and thus is worthy of praise!
Take ten minutes every hour or so to just sit, have a drink, and breathe deeply.
Use music to lift your mood, give you energy, or calm you down, depending on what you need. There are plenty of playlists out there to help if you haven’t got any at the ready.
Take 20 minute naps when you can, up to 7 hours before bedtime, to recharge without messing up your sleep schedule.
Call your friends, even if you just want to cry or vent, they want to help and they’re there when you need them.
When you have free time take yourself totally offline and do something engaging but not mentally exhausting.
Try to pre-plan what you’re going to do with any hour you’re able to stop. A bath, face mask or a foot mask. Something that’ll take 30-60 mins but might make you feel like you’re helped your body out a bit.
Take the time to write down, every day, everything you’ve done and how you feel morning and evening. It can help put the “I’m not doing enough” thoughts into proper perspective and also give you a way of tracking your energy levels related to different tasks to help with future planning.
And, last but by no means least, the one that I already knew I needed to do but was pretending I didn’t because not being able to cope is a failure on my part, dontcha know1 …
Sit down with the people who are in this with you and tell them how you’re feeling. You need to talk and decide, with them, how you’re going to tackle this.
I’ve done pretty much all the things listed above over the last two weeks and they’ve all make a positive difference to how I’m managing to keep going. However it will be no surprise to any of you that it was the last piece of advice which helped the most.
The day after I tweeted out my distress I put my big girl pants on (as I’m fond of saying), sat down with my parents, and told them what was going on with me. The upshot of the discussion was that, while there’s still a massive amount of work to be done, I no longer feel like I’m the one 100% responsible for everything. And although an actual holiday cannot be achieved I now have a few days set aside, here and there, when I will be able to take all or part of them and do something entirely unrelated to work or house clearance. Time to be, just me, without a timetable, or tasks, or anyone to answer to but myself.
I must also add that even though all of this did feel like magic, it wasn’t “this immediately solved all of my problems” magic. I can’t end this newsletter by saying that having done everything above I’m no longer struggling and everything is now the sunshine, rainbows and roses I’d have liked it to be. I mean technically I could say it, I’d just be lying. I’m still exhausted, I still have a to-do list that, even pared down, covers two A4 pages. The difference is that I no longer feel defeated, the to-do list has been properly prioritised, and I’m only trying to do the tasks one at a time.
Which is a long way of saying that asking for help has given me my hope back.
And hope, at the end of the day, is one of the small but mighty magics that power humanity.
Given the above you’d be forgiven for thinking that I haven’t written a word over the last month. In fact writing was the one thing that I kept doing regardless of how bloody awful I felt because it was an escape, something that took me out of myself, rather than another chore. So instead of being empty handed I have six blog posts from June for you to peruse, if any of them take your fancy:
Wrangling the Yarn: Q2 2023 (including photos of one of my finished big projects)
Ask Me No Questions (the newest Flashes of Feathers tale, this one also reflecting that June is UK Pride month)
And, because I do want to acknowledge the good things when they happen, I’ve had a little (and yet also big) win:
Last monday, 26th June, was the fifty second consecutive Monday I tweeted at least one microflash in response to the Writer’s HQ weekly prompt. Yes, you read that right, a whole year of microflashes! I’m not sure what I should do to celebrate my consistency (other than having written two microflashes this week as a little hurrah) but given everything else I do think I should mark it in some way. Suggestions in the comments, please. Oh, and all the microflashes are on this page of my blog if you’d like to read any of them.
Finally, this month my tarot deck has decided to hammer me over the head with a personal message, which may or may not resonate with you as well as we move into July. It feels far too on the nose given this month’s discussion but I promised there would always be a card for the month ahead in these newsletters and this is the card I pulled (twice, after two very thorough shuffles):
I don’t think I really need to say anything else on this topic, other than if you are struggling too then I see you, I empathise with you, and I really recommend reaching out and telling someone what’s going on.
Until next month, dear readers …
May you find your voice and be able to use it to ask for what you need, when you need it,
and, even though the nights are short, may they be filled with rest and restoration for us all.
It is not. It is simply a situation in which I found myself. I have tools (thanks to many therapy sessions) to deal with those sort of thoughts but, like most things, those tools are more difficult to access and use correctly when you’re exhausted and drowning in your own emotions.
Thanks for being so open and honest. I struggle with overwhelm sometimes, often of my own making, so this is all great advice.