A few weeks ago, on a very average Tuesday morning, I woke up, stretched next to my still sleeping partner, and immediately started crying. “What’s going on?” he asked me, bleary eyed. “It's work,” I said. "I think I'm burned out." He opened his mouth and then closed it again. I could tell he didn’t know what to say and I didn’t know what to say either.
Obviously, I know about burnout, but I always kind of assumed that it was something that people experienced either because they hated their jobs or had really high pressure jobs. Neither of these is true for me. I love what I do. I love the people I work with. The part of my job that a lot of people assume is stressful is deadlines, but honestly, I live for deadlines. There’s nothing quite as satisfying to me as getting something challenging accomplished that I really didn’t have enough time to do. Usually.
