Ballad of Burnout: a helper lost and found by Kerry Makin-Byrd (me) © 2023

Dedication:

To the helpers

and to the ones who sing them home

To Timothy and Liliana always

1 Before we begin

This writing began in rage

To scorch the career earth behind me

But unveiled it was a story of love

A letter to those who freed me

To the artists who lit the way

To the counterculture objectors

To my family forgiving my failure

And a love letter for my mentors

And finally to you dear helper

Full and out of love for this place

I offer a map, the terrain of my work burnout

Wishing you God speed and grace

2 Spoiler

I line my poisons along the path

Selflessness and stoicism offered as pitiful prayers

I believed caring was enough

I believed my ego was earned, fair

The school training begins long before this

We're prized for our heart and our grit

We are honed like flashy weapons

Denying self for the best fit

Were you taught to say no boldly

Or did you practice saying yes

I was taught to ignore hunger and sleep

Grew expert at ignoring the mess

The “mess” of my humanity

As I denied my body’s need

If only we tried harder

If only we absorbed more

The promise we could save lives

Could be all powerful for . . .

For the world so broken in suffering

So deserving of love and care1

Our paid work becomes our identity

An exchange for belonging seemed fair

It’s easier to point fingers at the person

Pushing a helper to shame

But who is behind the curtain

Look at the Constructor shirking blame2

Notice the premise is flawed

That service isn’t a profitable game

Humans aren’t actually machines

What if what is broken is the frame

I was playing for the jackpot

Worth, value, and service tied up with string

Even in a rigged system

I expected a sure win

I traded my work hours like gold tokens

Pulling the slots faster and more

Not asking at what cost?

Not asking who are the profits for?

We’re in a broken carnival

A maze in which we’re lost

Caring measured in metrics

Ignoring the aching heart’s cost

Note the Invisible Context3

The illusory way it must be

The shock experimenter’s voice (Milgram, 1963)…

Denying a way to break free

“Please continue

Please go on.

The experiment requires that you continue.

It is absolutely essential that you continue.

You have no other choice; you must go on.”

Our mission is to love and serve

But our will is mined, fracked, and sold

By systems and contexts disinterested

In anything they cannot mold.

My worst news is yet to tell

Screaming for peace, like an angry mob4:

No hero is coming to save us

Salvation’s simply an inside job5

3 Denial

At first I saw only my own failing

Reflecting back on itself

like mirrors at angles, or a Zoom screen-share echoing into infinity

I ignored:

A fuse so short it sparkled

Exhaustion, distraction, anger

Endless work rumination looping through the fabric of my off clock hours

Through play dates and sex

Till each of my minutes was blistered and burned

Physical touch is overwhelming and aversive

I eat only if I keep working

I take overresponsibility for everything

I drip in shame at each minor mistake

I am annoyed when loved ones talk to me burden me with their emotions

A local mother kills her four children while her husband is at work6

I have no room in my heart and say over and over,

“That poor woman. She must have been so lonely. She was so alone”

My husband looks at me with weighty silence, turning away so I don’t read his face too well

All that is what I ignored

What I stuffed to do a good job

Pretending it was a personal problem

Not evidence of the mass fraud

4 Bargaining

Denial works until it doesn’t

Most days it was easier to blame myself

“I just need better boundaries”

scheduled walk breaks and a standing desk

drinking water each hour and blue light glasses

permission slip to be late to meetings so I can use the bathroom

I nibble around the edges

I commit to harder, better, more

(not slower, deeper, less)

You know the definition of insanity?

To do the same thing - only faster

I hustle

For worthiness, for acceptance within the existing guardrails

It doesn’t work

Or rather it works like a shot of whiskey after accidentally chopping off a finger;

a moment of relief, a brief distraction

Then there you are again

With your finger sitting next to you

Same problem different moment

I continue to deny truth7

Bargain with the universe

Beg to be healthy in a sick system8

If I can white knuckle myself to be better, I can keep everyone happy

I want everything to change without anything changing

I’m not being ironic

I hire a coach

I tell her my whole life story

I bury her in details - I want her to understand how complicated this is

It isn’t just simple….it isn’t just that my WORK isn’t workable

I tire of hearing myself talk

My friends are patient but bleary eyed

What if it isn’t cosmically important, Kerry?

What if it is simple and clear. (Period, not question mark.)

What would it mean if it was simple…

I scrape together energy

Convinced I can push my way to stronger boundaries

I promise the sky this fucking job won’t ruin my marriage or my parenting

I start collecting prayers

May I know peace

May I know love

May I be free from fear and anger

May I have strength

To look at hard truths

To love myself just as I am

A long vacation thaws me out

I watch Kerry peek back

Bemused and curious

Goofy and playful

My heart stretching wide open

A friend says “I am no longer ashamed of my humanity, my human challenges.”

My body goes still

My spirit lies down like an old happy dog

Rolling in the truth of it

Part 2 of 4 coming soon…

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