Today, burnout showed up in my professional life in several subtle yet overwhelming ways. In the morning, I found myself mentally drained and struggling to keep up with the constant demands of the day. The relentless need to switch between tasks—helping one student with a math problem and then immediately assisting another with reading—left me feeling like I was running on autopilot. My patience had worn thin, and I could sense myself losing focus. I caught myself zoning out during transitions, which isn't typical for me, and I was frustrated with my inability to stay fully present. The noise level in the classroom, which normally doesn’t bother me, seemed louder today, adding to my sense of weariness. I pushed through until I needed to leave for my doctor’s appointment in the afternoon, and while I didn’t stay through the full day, I still felt mentally spent from the morning.
In my personal life, burnout manifested as an inability to focus on anything other than work. When I eventually arrived home after teaching a half-day, having lunch with my mother, traveling to a doctor appointment, and making the trek home, I was physically present, but mentally absent. Why was I so tired? I found myself replaying the morning’s events in my mind, worrying about things I hadn’t finished and questioning whether I was doing enough. I felt guilty for not being fully engaged with my students knowing they deserved more of my attention, but my energy was gone. It was definitely a Monday!
To manage my burnout today, I made small but meaningful efforts. I took short breaks during the morning, stepping away from my desk to breathe and reset. I went to the bathroom! When the overwhelm hit (going up to eighth grade social studies), I focused on being present in those moments, as I walked around the classroom monitoring on-task behaviors and took a small group in the hallway to work on an assignment. A quick walk around the school during my transition back to first grade also helped refresh my mind. While I still felt emotionally drained, I was proud of myself for making these small changes to care for my well-being.
As I look ahead to tomorrow, I feel uncertain about the professional development meetings. I am hoping they provide some opportunity for reflection and rest. I’ve realized that it’s crucial for me to continue prioritizing my mental health, even during hectic days like today.
Me: You are called “Shine Through the Darkness,” but I don’t feel like I am shining. I feel like I’m fading, worn down by the weight of too much – too many needs, too many expectations, too many things on lists of things to do, too many running thoughts about how to be better for my students and staff when I can barely be enough for myself.
Shine Through the Darkness: You think light only exists when it is bright. The smallest glow can cut through the deepest night. You are still here. You still show up. That IS shining, even when you cannot see it.
Me: (shaking my head in disagreement) Showing up doesn’t feel like enough. I drag myself through the day, pouring everything into my students, but by the time I get home, I have nothing left. I’m empty. How is that shining?
Shine Through the Darkness: You mistake exhaustion for failure. Even the moon, stars, and sun must rest. Your glow dims not because you are weak, but because you have given too much without recharging your own light.
Me: I don’t know how to recharge. The weight is always there – even when I try to rest. I always hear the voices of my students and their struggles. It never stops.
Shine Through the Darkness: Let yourself be still. Let the darkness exist without fearing it. You do not have to fight this battle alone. Even a candle with the smallest flicker can push back the shadows – IF AND ONLY IF it is cared for and protected. You must protect and care for yourself, too. Your light matters. You matter.
Me: I don’t feel like I believe that yet.
Shine Through the Darkness: You don’t have to believe it yet. You just have to keep going. Even dim light shines.
No comments:
Post a Comment