If you have not read my previous two posts – here it is in a nutshell.  I burned out while in full-time ministry and recently, I felt compelled to write about it.  My “crash” didn’t happen in a vacuum.  There were a number of things and circumstances that contributed to what happened – many of which were completely out of anyone’s control.  My intention in writing about my experiences is to help.  I know that I am not the only ministry leader to have experienced this and I know I am not the last.  It is my hope that by honestly sharing my experiences, perhaps there could be some pain spared and healing achieved.  So, here goes…

Looking back, the signs were everywhere.

I was so tired and couldn’t seem to get enough sleep.  I was gapping out and dropping balls (they call this “presenteeism“).  I was struggling with basic decision-making and couldn’t seem to figure out how to get my head above water.   Because I was feeling so ineffective in my work, I put in extra time.  Because I was afraid of dropping more balls, I put in extra time.  Because I was feeling so disappointed, so frustrated, so demotivated by some things gone awry, I did what had always worked before – I worked harder and longer.  I remember feeling desperate for some sign of progress.  Some indication that everything I was doing was making some kind of difference.

I prayed. I continued with daily-ish reading.  And I cried.  And I wondered if it was worth it. And I wondered what it would be like to leave. And I wondered if the church knew how hard I worked. And I wondered who the church even was…and I wondered where the church was and if the church would be there for me if they really knew what was going on in my head.

And then a friend, a co-worker (actually a few of them) said, “maybe you should take some time off- get a bit of rest.”  That sounded good to me even though I hate using vacation unless my family can get away somewhere (like – on a vacation).  So, I took a blank vacation request into my supervisor, slid it across the desk and said, “I’m tired.  I’m dropping balls.  I need a rest. Just tell me when I can have a rest…”.  He acknowledged my tiredness and then said that it wasn’t a good time (it wasn’t) and could I just hang on for about 6 weeks or so?  Then it would be a good time for me to take a couple weeks off.

What he didn’t know was that I had already been hanging on for months. What he didn’t know was how stretched I already was, how I had lost the ability to keep any kind of boundaries between work and home, how hurt I was by some who had said they loved me, how profoundly disappointed I was in some projects that I had invested a ton of energy into that didn’t go well. What he didn’t know was how my church had been completely lost for me in the thick of a job that was starting to eat away at my soul.

So, I hung on for about 4 weeks.   And that’s when it happened.  I got an email from a co-worker that, under normal circumstances, would have prompted a conversation where I would use some good “I-statements” and where I would say things like, “Help me understand….?”.  But as a friend later reminded me, when we’re under stress we “de-skill”.  Instead?  I sent an angry email from home at 11:30 at night and cc’ed it to a few others (I know better), then showed up at work the next morning even though it was my only day off in 7 days (remember – no boundaries left) where I met with my supervisor to explain what I had *meant* by the email and to apologize for sending it….only to burst into tears in his office mumbling something about being so tired and so discouraged.  I went home to try to pull myself together, but not before having to walk through a hallway full of people who were waiting for a meeting.  But that’s not all…..

Later that same day, I received a phone call from work asking for something I didn’t have and didn’t know I was supposed to have (one of my dropped balls or poor communication, I don’t know).   After working through what this person needed and articulating that I did not understand this was expected….I asked if this person knew that this was my day off.  In fact – if this person knew that this was my only day off in seven?  This person answered, “Yes.”

Yes.

And with that, I was done.  My breathing got shallow, my eyes started to burn, my throat closed shut and I couldn’t talk.  I started stuttering and stammering and finally just hung up the phone and walked across our living room to bang my fists against the wall.  I remember crumpling on the floor, full-on fetal position, rocking and crying and repeating over and over, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…..”.  The next thing I remember was my husband helping me down the hallway to bed where I cried myself to sleep.  Our HR person called later that afternoon to let me know they were going to take care of everything – I was off on leave.

I was off for a few weeks, returned for a few and then took some vacation.  I returned to work afterwards and found my way back into my role.  In HR terms, I had a “successful return to work” but, … I wasn’t the same anymore.  I am not the same anymore.

For the next while I will be writing about some of what contributed to all of this, some of my process while I was on leave, and what changed in me as I got some distance from the situation.   I still attend my church and love her deeply.  I am in good relationship with all who were connected to me during this painful period in my life.  I am writing about all of this because I know I am not the only one who knows what it feels like to have nothing left.  I am writing about this because I want my pain to be used for good and I am writing about this because I believe that some of what happened could have been prevented.

If you resonate with any of this, welcome here.