The Burnout

by Sophie Kinsella

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

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.

“Your PA also said you need a reflexologist,” adds Cassidy, consulting her notebook again, “and I’m working on that. We do have a reflexologist in the summer—lovely lady, very holistic—but unfortunately she works at Burger King in Exeter during the winter, so she’s not presently available.”

I’ve just covered Step 18 on my program, I realize: Confide in someone you can trust. And it made me feel better, just like Wetsuit Girl promised. I can still remember the advice on the app: Protect yourself and think carefully about who to talk to. If you’re going to open up, you need to be secure. If in doubt, call one of the helplines listed below, or visit our online forum. But I don’t need a helpline or a forum. I have someone I trust, right here.

“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.”

I want to enjoy life again, I realize. Because life is the ride, and the ride is it. You have to enjoy it.