Illustration by Marcelina Jagielka
At the time of writing, eighth week has just ended. Somehow I got through it all and came out the other side. Britain is facing a heatwave, the nation is still riding the high of the Queen’s 60th Jubilee, and Pride month is in full swing. If ever there was a time to sit back and enjoy the summer, it’s now. And yet, I find myself completely exhausted. I could have sworn that I was fine just a few days ago when I was finishing up the last few assignments of Trinity term. How did I get here?
Burnout is commonly defined as “a state of physical and emotional exhaustion” caused by a prolonged period of high-intensity work. Symptoms include difficulty concentrating, trouble sleeping, feelings of being overwhelmed, and procrastination (a more detailed explanation can be found on the NHS webpage). In my case, it’s a series of checked boxes. Honestly, the accuracy is a little frightening. Here I was, blaming the weather for my lethargy, sleeplessness, trouble focusing, and general feelings of low self-confidence — but the nightmares about forgetting to submit essays and sit exams was a sure-fire red flag. I can’t ignore the fact that it will take more than the return of the constant British drizzle of rain to restore my vigour. I am officially burnt-out.
So, who’s to blame? My tutors for the weekly six-page essays and extended reading lists they assign? The university for abiding by ridiculously short eight-week terms that force its students to churn out work without a break? Myself for taking on more extracurriculars and social activities than I can handle alongside my academic obligations? I don’t know. I don’t think it’s as clear-cut as any of that and I certainly don’t find that line of thinking helpful. Anger is one hell of a temptation right now (and a far safer feeling than the vulnerability of acknowledging how tired I am), but it needs to be fuelled by energy that I simply don’t have. Regardless of where my burnout originates, I’m still stuck with it. All that I can afford to think about right now is how I can begin to improve my wellbeing. Once burnt-out, where do I go next?
First comes rest. There’s no point in trying to run on fumes, so I’ll be doing my best to put all anxious thoughts of wasted productivity aside for a few days of relaxation and rediscovering old hobbies. I’ll be home soon, where my piano sits in the corner of the living room and my sewing box is filled with denim scraps and brightly-coloured threads waiting to be used. They kept me going through GCSEs and the months where my A-Levels would have been if not for a world-wide pandemic. My family is there, too. It’s exactly the environment I need to remember that there is more to life than academics.
But I still have vacation work to complete, so my next resolution is to manage it in a way that prioritises my wellbeing. No more rushing to meet late night deadlights; I’m breaking everything down into bite-sized pieces. A little work a day adds up to something to be proud of at the end of the week. And even if it doesn’t — if I need more rest than I anticipated, or a personal situation demands my attention — I can find a way to accept that. My degree isn’t all that I am. It can’t be all I spend my time pursuing. There will be other responsibilities in my life and that’s fine. I’ll do what I can and let the rest pass by. Removing unrealistic expectations of productivity is a necessary kindness to myself, and an act of self-compassion that I sorely need right now, when I am feeling more unproductive than ever. Step by step, I’m going to get back on my feet.
It’s important to me that I end this article by reminding readers that the University of Oxford does provide guidance, including counselling resources and the peer support program. As a peer supporter myself, I can definitely recommend the latter. Most of all, anyone struggling with burnout should know that they aren’t alone. It’s perfectly natural to feel this way after an intense eight weeks of tutorials, classes, essays, problem sheets, lab time, and more. University is intended to be a challenging place, and it’s okay if it grows to be too much. Taking a break isn’t a sign of weakness. If I had realised that sooner, I might not be in this position now. Either way, by the time I return in Michaelmas for my final year in Oxford, the lessons from my burnout will have hopefully sunk-in — the only way to avoid it is to stay aware of my emotional and physical health, and to be brave enough to recognise when I need to ask for help.