This journal cover was designed to accompany one of two cover articles the Dr. John-Henry Pfifferling and I coauthored in the late 1990s about burn-out and compassion fatigue, a concern that we encountered with physicians we met in our work together at the Center for Professional Well-being. In the cover article, John-Henry and I said that it took six months to recover from long-term burnout. We knew, and more importantly I knew, that there were no short-cuts. I desperately needed that six months to recover.
I assured my boss that I would put in the five months that I expected it would take to complete open projects and leave my clients in a good place, but I just couldn't do it any more. I explained that this picture reflected how I felt after giving too much for too long. I needed time to nurture the little ray of color left in my life.
Yet, even though I knew it would take six months, when the end of my extended notice arrived, I immediately took another job. I gave myself many reasons why I was ready to go to a different job. They were all lies that I told myself because it was a good opportunity. I knew I needed the time to heal. A few months later when I finally admitted that I needed the time, it was an admission of something I'd known all along: I needed to heal.
In some recent posts, I've bragged that I'd knocked a lot off of my "to-do list," lamented that I hadn't discovered my new purpose, and complained that I had a hard time hitting the ground running like I used to. These are all signs that I haven't been adequately healing from my burn-out. As I crawled into bed last night after yesterday's post, the image of this journal cover occurred to me. About the same time, I recalled that today would be Ash Wednesday, which marks the beginning of the 40-day Lenten season, a time of intense spiritual reflection and fasting leading up to Easter.
Although the 40-day Lenten season coincides with the 40 days that Jesus spent praying and fasting just before his crucifixion, that number is probably not happenstance. Since almost the beginning of time, 40 has been a spiritual number which symbolizes "time needed to totally recharge, renew the body; change to a higher perception."* Moses was on Mt. Sinai for 40 days before returning with the Ten Commandments, and he led the Israelites for 40 years before he acknowledged that they had the understanding of God that they needed. Rain fell on the earth for 40 days and nights, creating the flood from which Noah saved the animals in his ark. It occurred to me that the seven weeks of vacation that I had accrued and was going to use to "cover" my recovery was just a hair over the 40 days.
Since I had really given myself less than a week to recover from burnout before charging into a new class and book and cupboard cleaning, I think I need a restart, and what better time than this designated period of Lenten reflection? I didn't worry about when I woke up this morning. I went to church. I spent the afternoon reading a book I wanted to read and plan to go back to it when I finish here. I didn't even turn my computer on until almost 10 tonight, and that was to write this blogpost. (I did make one quick email check on my iPhone on the way to church this morning, and then I closed the mail app.) I turned the news on this morning, and just as quickly turned it off. I spent time in the kitchen, trying a new recipe.
I don't know what this 40 days will bring. I think that is the point. I am going to make every effort to stay out of my head, avoiding all but the very essentials of anything that smacks of planning and productivity. My 40 days will not be the six months that I know I need to heal from burn-out, but, with God's help, at the end of the 40 days, I will know what I need to do next. I think that is all I need to do. Be as present as I can be and allow myself to be led. Ah, that quintessential spiritual lesson...again!
*Bethards, Betty, The Dream Book--Symbols for Self-Understanding, Element, 1983, 1995, P. 140.
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