January 29th 2024.
I couldn't take it anymore. The constant pressure and stress were suffocating me. So, I made a decision to disappear. It was April 2018 when the police found me, and I'm sure they thought I was dead. I had been driving aimlessly all day, trying to escape from the chaos and exhaustion that had consumed my life. Eventually, I pulled over into a layby and fell asleep in my car.
But my peaceful nap was interrupted by a knock on my window. I heard a policeman talking to his colleague, preparing to break my window. I quickly rolled it down before he could, but I was at a loss for words. How do you explain to the police that you've gone missing, with your face plastered all over the local newspapers?
They asked if I was okay, and I just nodded, trying to hold back my tears of shame and embarrassment. They didn't ask why I disappeared, and I couldn't even begin to explain it. They simply drove me home in their patrol car. As we pulled up to my house, I felt a mix of emotions. I was angry at my husband for reporting me missing, embarrassed about my actions, and scared for what the future held.
Looking back, I now know that severe burnout had led me to that breaking point. But in the moment, I couldn't see it. A year earlier, I had been promoted to manager at the university where I worked, a position I had been striving for. But with the promotion came more responsibilities and pressure. At first, I enjoyed the challenge and the feeling of being in a respected position. But then, my husband and I decided to get married, and my workload increased even more.
On top of my demanding job, I was also juggling raising two young children and planning a wedding. And when we realized we needed to move to be closer to our jobs and our son's future school, the stress became overwhelming. I had always prided myself on being a good multitasker, but suddenly the thought of managing a house move on top of everything else filled me with dread.
So, I drove around aimlessly, trying to escape from the mounting responsibilities and pressures. My days consisted of rushing the boys to and from nursery, followed by wedding planning and house hunting in the evenings. I was mentally exhausted, and even when I finally went to bed, I couldn't sleep as my mind raced with all the things I needed to do.
Eventually, the wedding came and went, and we found the perfect house. But the pressure didn't let up. My performance at work started to suffer, and I became defensive and irritable with my colleagues. In January, I was signed off work with stress and depression.
I tried to take back control by applying for other jobs, and I soon received an offer with less pay but also less responsibility. I was relieved to hand in my notice and we moved at the end of March. But without giving myself time to recover, I started my new job right after my last day at the university.
On April 11, 2018, I woke up feeling completely detached from my life. I couldn't bring myself to call the doctor, even though I knew I needed help. My husband was understandably upset with me for not following through on my promise to seek help. But I was numb, and I just wanted to escape from all the feelings of failure and expectations. So, I grabbed my car keys and left the house without my phone or purse, ignoring my husband's pleas for me to stay.
I spent the entire day driving around and stopping occasionally to cry or nap. At one point, I even thought about ending my life, but the thought of my family stopped me. Eventually, I was woken up by the police in the evening. When I finally returned home, I admitted to my husband that I just wanted to escape for a while and that I had even considered ending my life.
After many discussions and tears, I finally agreed to seek professional help. I started counseling and was prescribed medication to help with my depression and anxiety. My husband and I also had a long conversation about sharing household responsibilities and letting go of control. It was a long journey, but every little step helped me to recover and rediscover my love for writing. I even started my own copywriting business.
Looking back, that day in April was my rock bottom. But I learned to recognize the signs of burnout and take action before it was too late. As a society, we need to address the issue of burnout, especially among working mothers who are 28% more likely to experience it than working fathers. I want other working mothers to know that it's okay to ask for help. Don't wait until you hit rock bottom to seek help. Learn your unique signs of burnout and take care of yourself before it's too late.
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