Over the past couple of years, I’ve been trying to get to know myself. Previously, this was something I actively avoided and neglected. Why? That’s a much longer story. Probably a combination of my Canadian-girl-growing-up-in-the-80s conditioning, being a middle child, and my innate tendency towards introversion and social anxiety. Or just because, accepting what is.

As I consider what work/employment looks like for me after my sabbatical, I find myself opening up and exploring more. The resistance is slowly melting away. I’ve been reading, listening and having conversations, and my neurons are firing. I haven’t felt this way in a while—energized to learn more and engage with a big unknown. I’m at the outset of wrapping my head around this space. Here’s what’s on my mind.

I’m recovering from burnout. I’m not sure what that means exactly or if a ‘recovery’ is the correct word to describe it. It makes it seem as though I’m looking to return to a previous state—what was—instead of moving towards something net new. But maybe that ‘new’ is just me, the me who has always been here, I’ve just never really gotten to know. In which case, perhaps ‘recovery’ is the correct word. Woah. Case in point: writing helps me sort things out.