Chapter 9: The Wisdom of Burnout

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Chapter 9

“Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare”
Audre Lorde

Why do we burn out? It’s not because we’re incapable. It’s not because we’re weak. It’s not because we care too much about the cause. It’s not because you didn’t do the “ten things successful people do before 5am”. It’s not because you don’t take ice baths. Burnout can be seasonal, unpredictable and compounded. It happens due to systemic factors, narratives which influence how we relate to ourselves and the world, our relationship to work and stress and, importantly, because changemaking is very hard. You’re working against unjust and unequal systems that are buttressed by centuries of power. To stand for change is to embrace the loneliness of caring, of being on the smaller, less-resourced side. And all while battling narratives that glorify overwork and overcommitment. In vocations where you are trying to change the system, and go against the grain, burnout can be an occupational hazard. Of course it can.

To stand in the Arena is to accept that you will move in constant proximity to burnout. This does not mean that you will reach the point of burning out. Counterintuitively, instead of denying burnout, building a constant dialogue to understand where you are in relation to it, is the method of prevention. If burnout is not in your orbit at all, perhaps you have the capacity to engage in bigger, bolder action. If burnout feels close enough to make itself feel felt, then rest, reset and repeat. The sooner we accept this, the sooner we can unlock the true secret to making change without burning out – being less concerned with how to avoid burnout completely and more focused Unlock the true secret on how we feel stronger, more to making change connected, better resourced without burning out. and more alive.

Stress in Changemakers

Burnout is defined as chronic physical, mental or emotional exhaustion caused by excessive or prolonged stress. It looks and feels different for each of us, because it’s relational to stress exposure and management. “Excessive” and “prolonged” are important descriptions here because life is full of stress – from the overstimulation of city living, to questioning if we’ve overshared on Instagram. The inevitability of stress is up there with death and taxes. That’s the gig of being a human. We run into problems when stress becomes excessive (it overwhelms our capacity for management) or it is prolonged (it is sustained for long periods, from months to years, without adequate rest).

Not all stress is created equal. In fact, there are two types, positive (eustress) and negative (distress) with each having different effects on an individual’s emotional, mental and physical state. Eustress is a healthy, motivating form of stress that can enhance performance and focus. I think back to the times when I was on the final lap of Mario Kart, on the edge of my seat, shoulders up to my ears, using all that “fight” energy to make sure the worst didn’t happen – that my brother won yet again. You may imagine your own feelings of eustress – when you’re in a timed exam and your brain is firing on all cylinders or you’re developing a climate strategy with your group and you can feel a sense of zest and buzz. Eustress is a nifty tool. It can enable creativity and productivity. It can drive effort and growth.

Negative stress, or distress, occurs when stressors become overwhelming and exceed an individual’s coping capacity. It leads to feelings of anxiety, helplessness or frustration, often diminishing our performance and allowing our inner critic to thrive. It can have physical consequences like headaches, insomnia or weakened immunity. Unlike eustress, distress detracts from an individual’s ability to function effectively. The main difference lies in the outcome: eustress energizes and enhances performance, while distress drains and impairs it.

The distinction is important because distress is easier to spot than eustress, but both contribute to burnout. The body doesn’t differentiate between positive and negative cortisol; it releases cortisol irrespectively. So, eustress can still contribute to burnout if it becomes prolonged, excessive or poorly managed. In setting up The Resilience Project, I’ve had many perplexing moments when I’ve started to show the early signs of burnout but couldn’t make sense of it due to my hyper-productivity and a genuine enjoyment of what I was doing. But imagine living your life in a state as if you were constantly on the final lap of Mario Kart, where chaos and drive reign supreme. While this would initially feel energizing and motivating, even positive challenges begin to take a toll when you persist in doing them without adequate recovery or balance. Whereas distress can often be instantly recognized, eustress hides in plain sight.

Both types of stress are especially relevant to changemakers for a whole host of reasons. Firstly, let’s talk about our boundary and overcommitment issues. Passion for a chosen cause or goal frequently leads to overextending, blurring the lines between healthy motivation and harmful overwork. Harmful overwork is often justified as the morally correct decision, particularly when both the urgency of crises and the small size of the movement means that we feel we need to do enough work for ten times the amount of people. Secondly, eustress often accompanies high aspirations or goals, such as policy wins or entire systemic change. If these goals are not met, the resulting disappointment can erode motivation and move us into distress. Thirdly, in the case of these enormous social justice issues like climate change or the refugee crisis, they aren’t going to be fixed overnight. Stress becomes a journey of unknown distance. We may find ourselves consistently taking on demanding but rewarding tasks without periods of rest, creating a cumulative and multiplying stress effect. The phrase “I will rest when…” is a common example of delaying our resilience. In an age of crisis after crisis, “when” seemingly never comes. Finally, excitement and focus driven by eustress can sometimes overshadow basic needs like sleep, nutrition and relaxation – for example, at COP (the international climate negotiations), where you exist in an enormous space with no windows for two weeks straight, fuelled only by eustress and coffee. This is one of the reasons why COP is considered an energetic tent pole moment, where your energy spikes to a peak in the lead-up and during, and crashes afterwards, mirroring the image of a tent.

While stress is generated in our own bodies, it can feel like an external force. A valid critique of the resilience movement is: “My sector/organization/group needs reform, I don’t need to become more ‘resilient’.” There is some truth in this, your sector undoubtably does need reform. Blaming burnout on the individual and putting the emphasis on them to adapt is a convenient way to deflect scrutiny from deeply ingrained group dynamics, power asymmetries or organizational working cultures (and save time and money). But equally, blaming the system and culture in totality is a convenient way for us not to do the work. There is a both/ and here. Inner work shouldn’t shift our gaze away from systems and structures, the two should work hand in hand. For example, developing your own sense of empathy and calm could lead to meaningful and constructive dialogue in your group or organization – I know from my own experience that difficult conversations are enabled more by how we regulate our nervous system than the facts and figures we’re presenting. Sharing your sector struggles through peer support may compel you to write a blog to illuminate burnout cultures and build a collective mandate for change. Reconciling with your own patterns of “peoplepleasing” might develop your ability to set clear boundaries. Categorically, no sector or structure should be excused through disproportionate focus on the individual. Equally, I’m yet to meet someone – myself and my cat included – that isn’t also a work in progress.

Burnout: Signs and Symptoms

From the many stories I’ve heard as well as my own experience, burnout in changemakers looks different to the signs and symptoms you’ll see online. Some of the symptoms I’ve come across include, but are not limited to:

• High performance, low satisfaction
• Persistent feelings of exhaustion, even after rest
• Apathy and feelings of “What’s the point?”
• Disillusionment with the cause or with the movement entirely
• Feeling so heavy and weighed down that that you feel pinned to your bed
• A declining sense of impact
• Nervous system dysregulation, including panic/anxiety attacks • Detachment from responsibilities, campaigners or colleagues
• Sleep disturbances, including insomnia or restless sleep
• Weakened immune system and increased susceptibility to illnesses
• Increased irritability, impatience or frustration
• Reliance on food, medication, alcohol or drugs to cope with stress
• Feeling overwhelmed by seemingly small tasks
• Feeling a sense of dread at WhatsApp notifications or emails • Not replying for days and weeks
• Declining social engagements and shrinking your social circles
• Feeling like you’re constantly letting people down
• Feelings of “freeze” in response to news stories
• Feeling insecure
• Reduced appetite for showering or personal hygiene
• Unkind thoughts
• Emotional disregularity
• Crying a lot
• General feelings of being unhinged or untethered

Rhiannon’s Story: Systems and Burnout

Burnout can happen to anyone, anywhere, at any time. However, it’s crucial to recognize that burnout is deeply systemic. Some start life with predetermined stressors. Already illuminated in Emmanuella’s story in Chapter 8, systemic burnout is related to who we are and how valued we are by the pervasive systems (capitalism, patriarchy and white supremacy being the three largest). It relates to our complex identities and our class, race, gender presentation, genetics, ability and sexuality to name just a few.

I spoke to Rhiannon Hawkins, who I trained to run a Resilience Circle in 2024. She is a disabled and autistic climate activist, 24 years old and is now completing her PhD at the University of Glasgow. Rhiannon shared: “Burnout for me is a constant. I think disabled people will constantly feel burned out to some extent. It never goes away for our community, because we have to constantly advocate for our own rights and our own challenges and our own existence within space, because of how our society has been built. It just isn’t made for us. It’s not made for me.

“My mum constantly had to advocate for me and that made me exhausted because I felt like I was a burden on her. You grow up thinking that you’re not suited to this environment, and it’s a problem. That you’re a problem. So, you exhaust yourself constantly as you think, ‘I am a burden’ because I’m having to have other people carrying me constantly.

“At university I had to fight for 50 per cent extra time in my exams, even though I was entitled to this by my diagnosis under the Equality Act of 2010, and to be protected. Now in my PhD, I’m still having to constantly explain myself and my needs, and they are often not acknowledged. It’s absolutely exhausting. I’m realizing that it’s like pulling up a mountain, because it builds up and up and up and up over and over and over and over consecutively. And then you feel as if you have the whole world on your head, and sometimes just don’t want to get out of bed and deal with it that day.”

Resilience Not Resignation

Rhiannon’s story highlights the additional stressors on people who our society has not been built for or shaped by. She is fierce in her resolve to improve life for both herself and others. While burnout is systemic, we all still have agency to better resource and strengthen ourselves. 

With reference to internal activation, she reflects:

“Going through the eight-week steps has helped me realize that I’ve got to pace myself. I’ve got to prioritize myself a bit more. I, as an individual, am worth something. The movement will constantly take from you, but you have to understand your own needs and yourself first, because even if the movement ‘needs’ you, there will always be a time when you can go back in and out of it, and I’ve learned not to be so ‘I have to do everything in the movement.’ Because the movement is not your life. It’s not going to go away if you step back. It’s going to reform itself multiple, multiple times. We’ve seen that over the past ten years, when the climate movement has changed its ways of activism and campaigning. It’s changed its ways of navigating the current political system. The disability movement is the same. We’ve changed and morphed multiple, multiple times over the generations. There’s always been a movement. As early as the 1880s there was a disability movement, and we’ve continued it.”

Burnout Prevention:  

Self- and Embodied Awareness

If our concern is not avoiding burnout completely but our relative distance from it, then developing our ability to sense where we are in relation to burnout most of the time becomes a key tool in prevention. The eight-week model has been designed to create supportive communities to develop this self-awareness, be that through asking “How are you?” in peer support spaces, understanding what each emotion needs to be a guest in our home or uncovering the narratives that lead to overwork. Any supported strategy that brings us closely to the truth of who and how we are is a form of burnout prevention.

Crucial to this is embodied awareness: the ability to bypass the mind and listen to your body. Under excessive and prolonged stress, it won’t be your mental will that gives in first but your body. Burnout taught me that the body is the most reliable narrator. While my mind has been programmed for productivity, focus and logic, the body – the soft and complex labyrinth Life wanders through – has a working memory of all the footprints left within in. The body is the early warning signs in your car. It is the furrowed brow on your mother’s face. The body is the keeper of truth. Its pragmatic functions are immune to ego, so it will get hungry when it runs out of sustenance. It will sleep when it needs to recharge. Or it will shut down. The mind on the other hand is a trickster, dictating how far we will go and when we will stop, depending on a lifetime of voices it’s heard. It holds the gavel and attempts to decide our sentence – I am burned out. I need to stop. Or, I am not burned out, I’ll be fine next week – by assessing what we believe to be evidence. But burnout and breakdown don’t bend to the whims of logic and reason. I spent so much energy trying to convince myself that I was not burned out and there was not enough available evidence for someone like me, with the privilege I have, to be burned out. In doing so, I was not listening to the whispers of my body, softening to what is. If I’d have paid it more notice, I would not have ended up so beaten, bruised and broken.

No matter how mentally strong or supported you are, trauma and stress leave their marks on the nervous system. To use myself as an example, starting my own organization has required sustained periods of eustress and distress. Consider meeting tight deadlines, the responsibility of managing a team, the anticipation of hosting residentials and the nerves of pitching to funders. While all of these may range from eustress to distress, they all impact the nervous system by moving it from a parasympathetic state (rest and digest) to an elevated sympathetic state (fight, flight and freeze). The sympathetic state is fundamental for drive, survival and response, but staying in either state for too long can bring consequences. The aim is a regulated nervous system, which moves between the two. For me, since 99 per cent of my work is laptop based, my nervous system would find itself in a state of fight or flight while staring at the screen. This unconscious response became synonymous with laptop work, and I’d find myself tense and stressed on a Sunday morning when looking up recipes for the week. My nervous system would conflate laptop and threat, changing my state as a protection mechanism.

Over the years I have learned that burnout prevention isn’t simply about narratives (mind) or rest (body), but also the nervous system, which has been critically overlooked. In times of great stress, my mantras of “I can do this. I can do another big, scary thing”, did wonders to overcome the additional pressures of imposter syndrome. But they also overrode the signals of my nervous system, keeping me in fight or flight mode for sustained periods of time. In Chapter 7, I mentioned that I’d started having panic attacks at times when I believed my mind was in check. I didn’t notice any narratives of anxiety or inadequacy, and my diet was nourishing and plentiful. I was monitoring my proximity to burnout and felt it was far away. Yet still I found my body unconsciously moving into a state of fight or flight – once on a work call, another time around a table with new friends and again when I was quietly watching a documentary the week after a very intense and fantastic work trip. My nervous system was on such high alert that it perceived threat all around, be that the judgement of new friends, the reminder of work or the moment of stillness after a huge adrenaline surge. 

Though the panic attacks were distressing, and I questioned if I was broken, the experience illuminated the nervous system as an area to explore. Resilience and mindfulness often cite the trio of mind, body and soul/spirit. They are three touch points to consider during times of deflation or feeling stuck. We can consider any deficiencies in our physical body, any saboteurs in our minds or how to nourish and expand our spirit. The nervous system has something to offer too. In periods of stress, go beyond an analysis of what your mind or body need, and consider: what does my nervous system need? What do you do to regulate your own nervous system? For me, regulating my nervous system looks like actively rejecting busyness and finding places to let go. I don’t find it in sitting meditation, as I’m still on high alert, but I do find it in slow, mindful walking, in saunas and in locking my bedroom door for 20 minutes, lying under my duvet and finding a yoga nidra, a guided form of meditation that is considered to be a massage for your nervous system. I find it in genuine stillness.

Stillness is the mind’s foe but the body’s ally. We know this by how we desperately grab for our phone when something is taking too long to load on our computer, or how we mindlessly scroll through reels in between daily activities. Finding moments in your 

day or week for stillness is an Stillness is the mind’s offering for the body and the foe but the body’s ally. nervous system. This doesn’t 

need to be the stillness of lying down (physical rest) or an eight-day retreat. But it should be stillness without phones, unmindful movement or watching TV. It could be slowly drinking your coffee in the morning, feeling the warmth in your hands, taking a five-minute movement break at work/ uni, yoga or any form of stillness that gives us a moment to connect the mind to the body and the nervous system within it. It can simply be ten minutes at the end of the day, before sleep, to think, “What stories and narratives have run through my mind today?” and, “What’s going on in my body?” 

One of the most helpful tools I’ve found to unlock this embodied awareness is the stress signature, where you identify your stress signs and symptoms. I have copied my example below. Complete your own separately.

Exercise: The Stress Bucket

Objective: This exercise can help us to understand all the sources of our stress and whether or not we need to identify additional taps.

Step 1: Draw a bucket on a piece of paper, ensuring that it has several taps at the bottom.

Step 2: Identify all of the stressors coming into the bucket, filling it. These could be situational, genetic, environmental or systemic.

Step 3: Identify all of your taps: strategies, people, methods and activities that help to empty the bucket of its contents.

Step 4: Assess if your inflows and outflows are balanced. If there are more stressors than strategies, we run the risk of our stress bucket overflowing in unmanageable ways. What additional taps might you need to add?

Burnout Recovery: The Mental Flu

Even with our best prevention mechanisms at play, we may experience burnout. This differs from fatigue, which can be corrected over a weekend of getting plenty of rest and seeing friends and family. Burnout, on the other hand, feels like stepping over a tipping point – pushing your body into a state of breakdown that no massage, yoga class or weekend of sleep will remedy. There is a great irony that in these states of “collapse”, you may be too depleted to lean on resilience strategies. Why is it that when we are at our lowest, we need to summon the courage to reach out to a therapist? Or lack the energy to go for walks, cook healthy food or even to shower. You may be in such a state of dysregulation that you are disconnected from understanding your own needs. In my experience, this becomes a downward negative spiral full of judgement and shame.

Consider when you have the flu. The kind of knock-out flu that keeps you firmly in bed. There are no walks or long afternoons cooking. We’re inclined to give ourselves When burnout creeps what we need, which is in, yield not to the probably physical rest, a mind, but to the body. spirit of gentleness and films from the early 2000s. The mind permits it and shame takes a back seat as we recognize that we are physically incapacitated. The only thing that becomes important is healing and survival. When burnout creeps in, yield not to the mind, but to the body. 

I have since reframed burnout, or feeling the first fluttering of burnout, as the “mental flu”. Like the physical flu, mental flu is not forever. If physical flu is a natural occurrence each winter, then mental flu may come around seasonally in our own personal winter. It’s not a personal failing, but a seasonal occurrence in response to changing conditions. Rather than breaking us, time, rest and acceptance will heal us from the flu. This reframe encourages the mind to quieten and respond through the body. We can’t “think” our way out of the mental flu. We must rest. We must sleep. We must be kind to ourselves. Would I go on a run with the physical flu? No. Would I feel the need to be productive? No. Would I berate myself for eating seven bagels in succession? Heck no. So why should it be any different for the mental flu? It’s a reframe that removes shame and guilt from the equation and offers full permission to slow down. Saying yes to the mental flu is the first stage of burnout recovery: Ground (see page 133).

The Growth Recovery Arc

Burnout recovery is not simply about bringing our body back to stasis. Unlike the physical flu, healing burnout takes longer than a few weeks. There is no course of antibiotics or emergency surgery for this kind of pain. After my first burnout, I didn’t step back into changemaking for 12 months. I didn’t do any direct organizing for 18 months. Clinically, burnout recovery ranges from several months to more than a year. From hearing personal stories, my assessment is that burnout recovery ranges from a few months to five years. This is why it’s so important not to exceed our tipping points and build awareness of our proximity to burnout, because once the threshold is crossed, the damage is done. If you have crossed the threshold of burnout, my first advice is: be generous with your timelines for healing. Physical symptoms may ease quicker, but a heart untended to requires time. Stepping back into places that caused harm too quickly may be accompanied by energetic whiplash, where you feel like you’re back to square one. Your nervous system may not have fully recovered and you may find yourself right back in fight, flight or freeze.

There are many stages to True burnout recovery, and in fact I identify recovery is less six: Ground, Recognize, Open, about self-care  Weave, Thrive and Hold – I call and more about  them the GROWTH Recovery self-change. Arc. This highlights recovery, which is found beyond rest. True burnout recovery is less about self-care and more about self-change. Beyond restoration or passivity, burnout recovery is how we unlock the wisdom to emerge as someone newly forged, with better boundaries, more vitality and an appreciation of all the energy for life that exists around us.

Step 1: G – Ground (rest, regulate, recalibrate) Key statement: The body leads the way. T
his is the immediate and necessary withdrawal from activity. It’s marked by exhaustion, passivity and the body demanding deep rest. Nervous system down-regulation, sleep and stillness are core. People may feel numb, disconnected or guilty for doing less – which is normal. Try to reframe this is as the mental flu. Resist the urge to think, process or reflect.

Step 2: R – Recognize (reflect, name patterns, identify root causes) Key question: How did we get here?
As the body begins to stabilize, we gain the cognitive and emotional space to reflect. This includes identifying patterns, root causes (internal and systemic) and unlearning beliefs like “rest is laziness”, or “I am only as worthy as my output.” Peer support becomes invaluable in this stage to begin the sense-making process of how we got here.

Step 3: O – Open (allow healing, self-compassion, vulnerability) Key question: What needs to heal or shift?
The next stage is opening ourselves up to heal, forgive and change. This phase bridges inner and outer change. We begin tending to wounds, such as betrayal, disillusionment or overresponsibility and gently shift our internal compass. We explore our boundaries, needs and values. Therapy, coaching or somatic work often happens here.

Step 4: W — Weave (introduce new boundaries, practices, patterns) Key question: How do I live differently?
Step 4 is connected to renewal. Here, actions return slowly. We begin weaving the wisdom from Reflect and Open into our lives and spaces. We implement the behaviour changes identified earlier: setting boundaries, saying no, prioritizing joy, rest and balance. This is where new habits, support systems and personal practices are established.

Step 5: T — Thrive (reconnect with energy, aliveness, purpose) Key question: What brings me to aliveness?
With a regulated nervous system and revised inner landscape, vitality resurfaces. Curiosity, creativity and purpose start to pulse again. We reconnect with the world not through urgency The antidote to or obligation, but through burnout is not rest, joy, community and a sense it’s aliveness. of wholeness. How do we feel aliveness? We jump in cold water, we cry and laugh with friends, we connect with a sense of awe and wonder, we mindfully travel. We pause to feel the wind, we learn new skills, we reconnect with who we were, we remember that Life is pulsating around us always. We set the alarm early and notice the sunrise, we stay up late and notice the moon, we listen to inspiring podcasts and we do things that give us goosebumps. We live hard and we love harder. We do the work. Vitality is our life force, energy, connection to self and freedom. The antidote to burnout is not rest, it’s aliveness.

Step 6: H — Hold (integrate and sustain wisdom over time) Key question: How does this change who I am?
This final phase is often overlooked, and it concerns wisdom and integration. It’s about metabolizing the experience of burnout and folding the insights into long-term practice. Not self-care, self-change. We emerge not as the old self restored, but as someone newly forged. Moving through the same spaces, here we hold our new self, rooted.

The Gifts of Burnout

It is unlikely that driving change will get easier, particularly in the wake of rampant AI development and a surge of right-wing extremism. We will probably get close to burnout again. We might move through the GROWTH Recovery Arc many times. This is why we Act, Rest, Reset and importantly we Repeat. From my own experience, in one year I can feel righteous when I say no, firm in my worth and by the next season I’m working myself into the ground due to an idea I’ve latched on to of what “enough” looks like. Without continually engaging with our inner work, we may find ourselves needing to move through the Arc again. Consider the activists on social media who speak about the necessity of rest and then find themselves quite courageously crying into their front camera due to exhaustion. To move back to exhaustion is not to be invalidated or weak. Those activists – and me – are armoured with the experiential knowledge that our emotional states are knitted together by threads of external conditions, metanarratives and narratives that live deep within us. Paired with the notion that all of this and all of us can be visible through social media indefinitely, moving back to exhaustion is understandable. This is why our inner work needs to become a way of life rather than a piece of homework. Learning the fabric of our psyche takes intentional practice; it takes time and crucially it takes a hell of a lot of self-compassion. Each time you move through the Arc you find gifts that will inform how you move through the world in a healthier and kinder way.

Unlearning and relearning is a life-long journey. So, remove the guilt. Adding a layer of “How have I let myself get into this state yet again?” intensifies the emotional picture. While we can’t change the exhaustion right this second, we have more agency in liberating ourselves from the shame associated with it; we can soften to what is and ground ourselves.

When burnout arrives, it doesn’t ask for shame, it asks for insight. The glorious opportunity here – and I do mean it when I say glorious – is that there is no changemaking journey without a parallel journey in building resilience and learning who we are. Social transformation will call on you to be your biggest and most fearless self. It might feel overwhelming because you’re reading this as the person you are, not as the person you’re going to become. The response becomes not “I can’t do this anymore”, but “I can’t do this in this way anymore. What needs to change?” Not “How do I work harder”, but “How do I resource myself better?”

In the case of burnout, it is not building a life that avoids stress and tiredness. If that were the case, you wouldn’t be reading this book. Sustainable changemaking is building a life where our relationship with stress and tiredness also creates space for aliveness. One part of me feels deeply tired, yes, but how can other parts of me feel alive?

For a while I thought that burnout happened to me. Now 

I think burnout happened for me. I developed a deep love, care and understanding of who Burnout doesn’t I am, and an empathy for others break us, it cracks moving through it. I moved from us open to let in the city to the Scottish Highlands the light. to Thrive and I built deeper community and a deeper sense of my own aliveness. I started to appreciate who I am beyond the fight. For all my inner work, living in a small town in the mountains and my writings on burnout, I am not immune to it. In fact, the process of writing this book, running an international climate organization and the uncontrollable happenings of my personal life have brought me great bouts of deep fatigue. It proved yet another opportunity to reflect on how far I’ve come, move through the GROWTH Recovery Arc and hunt for the aliveness within me. Burnout doesn’t break us, it cracks us open to let in the light.