HOW BURNOUT MAKES US LESS CREATIVE

If you live in the UK, you’ll be familiar with “It could be you” as a slogan for the National Lottery. Television adverts would depict a huge hand coming from the sky, pointing to the next lucky so-and-so whose bank account was about to receive a major boost.

If only such a dramatic, unavoidable sign pre-empted burnout. Perhaps we’d do something about it. Instead, we write off the symptoms as “no big deal”, “nothing to worry about” or “nothing new”. We’re so used to feeling under pressure that it becomes our normal.

It’s curious to think that any other type of “holic” (or addict) is deemed in need of help, but being a workaholic is a badge of honour. Recruiters look for candidates who will “go the extra mile”, their only known mode being “above and beyond.” When did you last see a job advert seeking someone who won’t arrive early, will leave on time and take a full hour for lunch? It just doesn’t happen. 

Many companies spout about the importance of work / life balance, but how many genuinely enforce it? Not because it makes them look good, but because it’s the right thing to do?

There is the argument that companies can only be held partly responsible for the wellbeing of employees, with the onus on individuals to know when to draw the line. This is especially true when working for big organisations, where the sheer scale of operations makes it nigh on impossible to adequately monitor everyone all of the time. In these cases, it is the company culture that needs to change – and from the top down. Managers can’t be seen to be clocking off late at night or sending emails in the early hours. Such behaviours don’t equate to a strong work ethic, they only serve to instil fear in those working below them.

We all need to recognise when enough is enough, and in October 2019 that’s exactly what I did.

My descent into burnout territory was gradual. Since childhood, I adopted behaviours that replicated my father’s. His attitude was to work hard while young, invest wisely and retire early. My dad left his last job as CEO of an electronics company in January 2012 after an incredibly successful career. He died six months later at the age of 53. His death certificate read cancer, but I’m in no doubt that his illness was intrinsically linked to his work. Both his lack of focus on his health while working, and the rapid decline when he ultimately stopped confirm this. I do not intend to follow in his footsteps.

I joined Pfizer in November 2004, and didn’t take a single sick day for the best part of 15 years. I visited the doctor just once in that time – at my wife’s insistence – when a cough got so bad, I could no longer talk. I’d experienced similar symptoms each winter for more than five years before seeking help. Each and every time I fell ill, I chose to power through, pushing myself to keep going to deliver that “important” presentation or attend that “essential” meeting. It didn’t occur to me to apply those terms to my health.

A vicious cycle had begun. I’d convince myself that “powering through” worked and relied on adrenaline. When I finally had the opportunity to stop with weekends and holidays, I couldn’t keep going. It wasn’t work that suffered, it was my family.

In the early days of my career, I worked every evening and travelled most weeks. My wife would often visit wherever I was staying and for a while it was fun, and a sacrifice we were willing to make. But then came children. My circumstances had changed dramatically, but my mindset remained the same. The baseline that I had set myself for so long was no longer tenable, but anything less felt like slacking off.

And then came the excuses…

“It’s better to stay connected” was my go-to where holidays were concerned. I’d whole-heartedly subscribed to the theory that checking in every day was better than the anxiety of not knowing. It was never “somebody else’s problem”. Looking back, it really should have been. That’s what co-workers are for. Such obsessive oversight of projects isn’t just bad for you, it reflects badly on your team. It suggests a lack of trust, whether that’s the case or not.

And whilst “checking in” with work during your son’s birthday party may seem like a minor transgression, these instances soon build up. It’s like driving home on mental autopilot. You reached your destination, but you have no idea how you got there. You missed out on all of the sights along the way, or – in my case - the little things that make life special. A holiday is not merely a break from work, but precious time to spend with loved ones. Time you will never ever have again.

The flip side of valuing time is that I’d focus so heavily on making every minute count that I’d fill each sixty seconds to the maximum. I wouldn’t just walk to town to get my haircut, or cut the grass, or do a DIY project. I’d combine those activities with work calls, catching up on a podcast or listening to audiobooks.

In the same way an overloaded computer will close programmes in order to restart, it was inevitable that my body would shut down at some point. I could no longer function, but it would take more than a quick diagnostic test to figure out why…