Dear Jerry: How Do I Avoid Burnout?
Advice columnist Jerry Grimes on how to keep your tires from spinning out.
Dear Jerry is an advice column by Jerry Grimes. Readers can submit questions about materials, fabrication techniques, professional etiquette, lover’s quarrels, getting into grad school, whatever.
Q: Dear Jerry,
How do I avoid burnout? What’s the healthy balance of work and play?
Signed,
President of the Achievement Society
Dear PotAS,
Great question!
First let’s try to visualize what burnout even looks like. We’re not going to talk about candles or phoenixes or any of that poetry class nonsense. We’re going to think about a 1977 Pontiac Firebird.
Burnout is when you’re sitting in the Firebird, revving the engine to the redline and dropping it into gear, the tires are screaming, smoke everywhere. The tires are spinning so fast they don’t grip the road and you’re not getting anywhere. Your clutch is pissed, the transmission might have just chipped a tooth, and your tires just lost 10,000 miles of life in ten seconds.
And for what? You didn’t go anywhere. You just made a bunch of noise, burned a bunch of fuel, and left some skid marks that will wash away the next time it rains and join our drinking water as microplastics…tasty.
If you keep doing burnouts every time you leave a parking lot, eventually those tires go bald. Now you’re on the highway, and rather than coming to a stop, your mint ‘77 Firebird is kissing the back of a 90s Volvo wagon. Your front end is never gonna be the same (even if we sent it off to Alonzo). That’s what long-term burnout does. It messes with your ability to respond when life actually needs you.
Burnout is more than just being tired. You know you’re burnt out when even the stuff you love feels like a chore. That’s a rough place to be, and it can take a while to dig yourself out if you’ve let yourself sink in.
So what do you do?
First ask yourself, honestly: am I moving forward or just spinning my wheels? Maybe you need to ease off the gas. You don’t need to shut the car off, but you don’t have to floor it everywhere you go.
If you’re already deep in it, you don’t fix burnout by “pushing through.” That’s just another burnout. You have to start small. Try eating an actual meal sitting down. My grandmother used to say if you don’t, the energy falls right out your ass. Drink water like it’s your job. Sleep–REAL sleep, not passing out with your shoes still on. Do one thing you enjoy without turning it into productivity. You’re not trying to rebuild the whole engine in a day. You’re just trying to get this thing idling again.
I was told about this thing once–a heath triangle. There are many triangles out there (pause) but this one is equilateral. Listen, I didn’t make you go to poetry class, but we are going to do a little geometry. Relax.
The 3 sides of the triangle are:
- Body (sleep, food, basic maintenance–like oil changes, but for you)
- Business (work, school, responsibilities, the stuff that pays for the gas)
- Spirit (friends, joy, daydreaming, whatever feels holy or makes you feel like a human being)
If one side gets too long or short, everything gets crooked. You go all-in on work? You stop eating right and ghost your friends. You party non-stop? Now your body’s shot and your responsibilities are piling up to overwhelming. That triangle can get ugly real fast. Balance isn’t some mystical thing. It’s just keeping those three sides from collapsing in on each other.
Here’s two tips I think can help you restore some balance for the long run:
1. Don’t become easy prey
We live in a world that will take every second you’ve got if you let it. Your time is the most valuable thing you have, and people will happily burn it up for you. Don’t hand it over to jerks! Give your time to yourself, your family, your pals, and your studio practice.
2. The Burnout Buddy System
It’s hard to say “I’m struggling” to a friend, nobody likes doing it. But that pal of yours knows you. They probably already know something’s up. You ever notice how often people say “I’m okay”? That’s a dog whistle–code for “ask me again.” Follow up and let your pals follow up with you. It’s not a coincidence most diving accidents happen when someone’s alone. Same idea here. Find your buddy, and keep each other honest.
And if the smell of opportunity starts getting replaced by burnt toast…
Call someone. Eat something. Sleep. Slow down. Take your time back. Because you don’t get a refill on that.
While my editor here at Art Forearm might wish they had their time back after this article, I want to say thanks to you all for spending your time here with us!
Your pal,
Jerry
P.S. I’m doing great. Most of my pals are dead, in jail, can’t find their SIM card, or too hard of hearing, so instead I call Waste Management (one of my dumpster providers) and tell the automated system my problems. The system is really sympathetic… “I’m sorry I didn’t catch that, but you can ask me questions like, ‘I’d like to pay my bill’ or ‘pick-up schedule’” and after I trauma dump a little about what’s going on in my world, I’m eventually directed to a human. Which then reminds me that I also called to contest the $100 misc fee attached to last month’s bill. Win/win.
Do you have a question for Jerry? Ask him for his advice on art materials, fabrication techniques, professional etiquette, lover’s quarrels, vintage cars, applying to grad school, sandwich-making, international travel, or any other areas of life where you could use some advice or good news.