Controlled Burns: Making Space for New Growth in a Scorched Year

The past couple of years have been exhausting. If I’m being completely honest, I’ve been slowly burning myself out since Covid. On top of all the stress from the pandemic, I went back to college, took on extra responsibilities, picked up another job, helped my niece navigate life when she moved in, and then welcomed my other niece, her husband, and their newborn twins into our home. On top of that, I’ve had to adjust to not one, but two new bosses at my primary job.
I rode out all of these changes because I love the people around me and wanted to build a better world... for them and for myself. But even the most well-intentioned choices can demand more from you than you ever meant to give.
Lately, I’ve started to feel the edges of burnout creeping in. I don’t enjoy much anymore. My days are stuck on repeat: work, eat, sleep. I don’t make time for friends, or even myself. Any spare moment I do have, I give to my family, and I’ll never regret that. But I was recently reminded that it’s okay to live a little, too.
To even begin making space for that, I had to step back from some of the things that were draining me. As much as it stung, the easiest thing to let go of was the job I took on last summer at the library. Logically, it made sense. While I love the people I work with and I know my leaving caused a disruption, it was the most sensible sacrifice. Less mileage on my aging Jeep, more time with family, and maybe even time to pretend to be social again.
I had originally planned to leave it at that. But lately, other aspects of my life and career have been shifting too, pushing me to dust off and pad my resume, and to start applying for remote positions.
I've realized that in my desire to help and make things better for those around me, I’ve allowed others to walk over me. That pattern came to a head this year when I was asked to teach two classes... without the salary my degree qualifies me for. I turned it down. I love those classes, but I had to take a stand.
I was told things are looking better financially, and that I’d be offered a paid teaching role next year. But there’s a catch: enrollment is down. And even with new students, we're currently overstaffed. I may not be the smartest person in the room, but I can read the writing on the wall. I just wish my boss would be honest about when they plan to inform me of the impact this will clearly have on my role next year. In the meantime, I don’t intend to sit back and wait to be blindsided.
Sometimes, it takes the sting of approaching burnout to finally recognize our own worth. It’s unfortunate... but for those of us who are stubborn, it’s often a necessary part of the process.
I’m learning that controlled burns, though painful, are part of healthy growth. They clear the deadwood, expose what’s been hidden, and make space for something new to take root.
So that’s what I’m doing... clearing space. For peace. For purpose. For people who see me clearly and jobs that respect the value I bring. I don’t have all the answers yet, but I’m finally choosing to stop running on empty. I’m not just surviving the fire anymore. I’m making room to grow after it.