Burnout · another word for loss of sense of self
Burnout is a word mentioned a lot lately, as more and more women are dropping out of established careers citing exhaustion from overwork.
About thirty years is the time it takes for Saturn, the planet of our solar system, to return to the same place it was at the exact time of our birth. The Saturn return as it’s called, is notoriously considered a cosmic rite of passage; aka the time that we get to have our world rocked by the forces of the planet of order and stability when we’re not aligned with our highest path and potential in this lifetime.
Nothing random I think, the average age for women getting burnt out of high achieving careers is apparently around thirty years old. This also matches my case; I quit my corporate career at age thirty, although I’d say the signs had started showing at least two three years earlier.
burnout: short for crisis of self-identity, not exhaustion from overworking
I learned to tell my burnout story during the nature expeditions I lead with Joren in the last couple of years now since I quit. The truth is that it took me a while to be able to share it openly without cracking. The first few times I was very sensitive for sharing a story that still felt like a failure, even on a superficial level.
I knew it in my heart that I had done the right thing when I got out of the corporate world, but it took me some time before I was able to own my story and really understand what had happened to me.
As a lot of women out there, I too grew up with the idea that I had to be perfect if I wanted to succeed. By success here I mean being financially independent, and socially accepted. Both come with big responsibilities for a woman in society these days. It still feels a bit embarrassing to admit that success was all about that to me not too long ago.
Fitting in, learning to play by the rules of the game and excelling in the world I grew up in was all that mattered; I learned from a young age it was what would secure my survival. As young as I can remember myself, it was all about survival, never about joy, pleasure, happiness.
I worked my ass off to succeed in this survival game. I relentlessly strived for working my way up in the education, and then career ladder. It didn't matter what I did, as long as it paid well and it was socially well-respected.
I learned how to play the game well. I utilised all my qualities and strengths to create the perfect image for the perfect woman I was supposed to be.
The truth is that I didn't know who I was.
I had shoved that away from a young age, because who I was didn't really fit in the world I was born into.
All I wanted to do when I was a kid was dance!
I was a ballerina, the best ballerina in class, always. It was the only thing I loved doing.
But that wasn't good enough, it was ‘just a hobby’, not a career.
Science, technology and the like - that was certainly a more acceptable way to go about life.
I lived most of my life thinking that I wasn't pushed into engineering school - because I actually took that decision myself, I remember that very clearly. But the messaging I got as a kid was so clear that what I felt truly passionate for - which was then creative self-expression, was just not a viable path for me. Science was very highly regarded, and of course I wanted to impress my parents, and succeed in the way that life was presented to me.
As a kid I struggled so much to find a place for myself. That question of what ‘do I want to do with my life’ as a career was haunting me from the early beginning. As early as 14 years old I had to choose a direction in school, was it going to be science or humanities?
And not only that, but it was presented to me as a choice that would determine my future.
As early as 14 years old I had to make a decision that I was told would define my chances in being successful in life.
Wow! Thinking of this crippling pressure I had to live with as a young teen and I feel so much sadness for the loss of carefreeness, playfulness, expression and creativity exploration that anyone should have been allowed to experience at that age, instead of being burdened with having to make such a decision.
A never-easing feeling of stress and fear for the future started from that point on, which I know now culminated in my burnout at age 30. And it still haunts me as sometimes crippling fear for the future and ‘taking the wrong decisions’.
Back to my teens, I didn’t know what I wanted (other than ballet of course, which wasn’t an option), but I was good at pretty much everything at school. When the moment came, of course, I chose science, that was what was favoured anyway by my immediate environment, even though I wasn't told explicitly.
And so from that point on I began creating an image of myself according to how I should be if I want to succeed in the path I chose; by becoming financially successful in a profession that came with adequate social status.
As early as the end of high school the signs were clear that this path was not the right one for me.
Even though I had chosen to do high-level maths and physics I graduated best in my year mainly due to my excellent grades in literature and foreign languages. I remember my maths teacher called me to inform me about my exam results, and I heard in the tone of her voice how concerned she was that I did so well in the subjects I hadn't picked in a high level!
That didn't phase me though, my path had been chosen. I had been accepted into one of the top engineering schools in the UK and my career future seemed bright according to what I knew.
From that point on, it's not an overstatement to say that I suffered immeasurably.
I HATED engineering school. Five years of blood, sweat and many many tears later, I graduated with the conviction that with an engineering degree under my belt I had the credentials to do any business job I liked.
And that was partly true, my engineering degree got me a lot of recognition, and in many ways damn right it did - it was not easy to graduate with a high grade in electronics and electrical engineering from a top university. But it was recognition that came not for my true passion, but for my skills to play the game right. This was also valid, and it gave me a lot of confidence knowing that I could figure out and achieve anything I put my mind on. But I wasn't truly confident in myself.
I learned that if I wanted to succeed I had to fake my way through, work out a system to beat the system.
Deeply down I felt like a fake because I was acting my way through university by learning how to pass exams rather than understand a thing about engineering.
The story continues in much of the same way. I went on to build a very successful career in business by learning to play the game of jobs and interviews. As I went I gained a lot of new skills, and confidence that I could excel in whatever I put my mind on, which like university, was not where my true passion lied. It was more about achieving more and more finances and a better looking title, as a way to ensure survival.
Seven years later after I graduated from university and entered the job market, I finally managed to have it ALL - according to the 14-year-old me who was taught that all she had to do was secure finances and status by becoming the perfect woman the world wanted for her.
My resume was phenomenal - I was a female top university engineering graduate global Googler. Bam!
On the outside, what the world could see of me, I was very proud of myself. I was really perfect.
On the inside however, I felt empty. Like there was a hole in my stomach, my power all gone away.
My power was gone because I had to give it away if I wanted to play the game right; the game of denying the true me.
The loss of self I had been enduring for practically all my life was catching up with me. Maybe my conscious mind didn't know yet, but my body couldn't hide it. I started having panic attacks. My nervous system was basically shutting down.
After the third incident, I was literally forced to stop, and look inside for the first time ever. Something I never used to do, I started spending time alone. Little by little, I started filtering out all the noise, the social numbness of parties, happenings, ephemeral people, shoulds about having to be a certain way, do certain things, and caring too much about what everyone else had to say.
All these were distractions from the source of my mayhem - the loss of my true self and identity from a lifetime of pretending to be someone I wasn’t.
It’s a hard thing for an always-striving-to-be-perfect woman to admit to herself, let alone the whole world, that she failed, that she’s not really perfect, as everyone around her wanted her to be.
That she’s been ‘faking it’ all along. That all she worked for was to create something that in the end was killing her.
It’s hard and it comes with immense amounts of grief.
Grief about the loss of all these years pretending to be someone else.
It’s easier to say burnout means overwork, in a society that rewards the hard-working.
It is easier because then we don’t have to face the pain of losing the mask of ‘our perfect selves’, and the grief that comes after, the grief of having lost ourselves for so long.
Burnout is not overwork, it is a nervous breakdown caused by a lifetime of loss of self and true identity.
The sooner we tell ourselves the truth we can then move on to reclaim our authenticity and power to create our lives as we consciously choose.
ABOUT ELENA ZOE
Welcome to my online portal!
I am a former Googler reborn as conscious & self-aware living advocate.
I’m a speaker, writer and coach passionate about helping people live their best lives by tapping into the Source of their truth, power and true desire.
I offer individual mentoring and online programs, and I lead transformational expeditions in nature.
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