The Burnout

by Sophie Kinsella

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see that six more urgent emails have arrived in my inbox while we’ve been talking. I feel nausea rising as I see all the red exclamation marks. How am I supposed to have time to reflect? How can I feel joyful when I’m constantly gripped by panic? How am I supposed to write down my aspirations when my only aspiration is stay on top of life and I’m failing at that?

I started off at a sprint, giving it my all, thinking I was on a solid path toward an exciting horizon. But the path isn’t solid anymore. It’s mud. Deep, gloopy mud.

I have one job. One flat. No children. But still life feels impossible.

I should go home, I dimly think. But what’s home? A messy, disheveled, depressing flat. What’s my life? A messy, disheveled, depressing nothing. I can’t do life. The stark truth lands in my brain with a thud. I can’t do life anymore. If I just acknowledged this one fact, everything would be easier. Life is too hard. I want to give up…what, exactly? Working? Being? No, not being. I like being alive. I think. I just can’t be alive like this.

My head feels alternately exhilarated then tight with trapped tears; elated then panicky. It’s as though I’m finally putting down a load I didn’t even know I was carrying—but I can’t let go so easily. I relax a little, then seize up again. It’s as if some part of me keeps grabbing the load back. Maybe for security? Or because I can’t remember what it’s like not to carry it?

It wasn’t that my thighs couldn’t do squats—it was that my head couldn’t.

“You took a tumble. The sea had some fun with you, that’s all. But remember this.” He turns and points out to the gray sea. “You’re never failing, you’re learning. Learning how to manage the sea and how to manage yourself. Everything you did today, right or wrong, was experience. Experience! Can’t beat it. And you’ll learn from it, just you wait.

“Now,” adds Terry knowledgeably, “you want to know why you wiped out?” “Yes,” I say, desperate to hear his answer. “Tell me. Why did I wipe out?” “Because you tried,” says Terry simply. “You tried, my dear. And that puts you above most people.”

“The thing you must remember is to enjoy the ride.” He looks at me with a sharp blue gaze, and just for an instant I’m looking at the old Terry. “Enjoy every moment. Because if you don’t, what’s the point? The ride is it.”