A draining tale from 2009
I wish I had avoided falling victim to the collective delusion that burning out is the necessary price for accomplishment and success. — Arianna Huffington
Before becoming a designer, I worked for a bank for 4 years.
I had an amazing job with fantastic people around me who I’m lucky to be still friends with. I started as a teller, and after only two years, I got an opportunity to move up on the corporate ladder by relocating to the capital from the countryside. I was excited and motivated more than ever.
I loved my job.
I couldn’t imagine doing anything else, probably because I was good at it. Exceptionally good.
I got up at 6 AM every day because I started at 7.30 AM in the office, finishing up around 6–7 PM.
During the day, I quickly grabbed lunch and was back at my desk in 20 minutes.
I worked towards some crazy KPIs each month while managing people, dealing with customers’ complaints, working with internal banking systems (terribly designed software — now the designer talking), and always giving my 100% attention because there was no room for error in finance.
I don’t think I ever complained about it because it was all absolutely normal for me. I was working my ass off for years and didn’t even notice.
Then, after 3.5 years, something happened.
My mood changed a lot, and not for the better.
I stopped smiling.
I lost sleep.
I was always tired.
I didn’t want to go for a run any more — I was a long-distance runner at the time.
I lost my motivation.
I started to hate going to work every day.
I felt isolated in my work.
I had a decreased level of patience.
I was annoyed by everything and everyone, but I tried my best to hide that feeling.
I just got my third promotion around that time and moved into the new team with even crazier KPIs, so these changes didn’t help me, at all.
You know how it is when you are in a new team and a new role, right?
Even if you have a respected position within a company, but your nuclear team doesn’t know you yet, or the team keeps changing, you still need to prove yourself to them.
I felt like I wasn’t my old self any more.
I felt stressed all the time.
I felt helpless & trapped, and I just didn’t know what to do about it.
So I did nothing.
I kept working for another 6 months with those feelings, mindset, and attitude.
After suffering for half a year like this, I suddenly got sick, making me stop working and stay home for months while getting daily infusion therapy.
It was a real wake-up call.
Finally, I got some time to think. Well, actually I wasn’t thinking at all, because I felt so empty.
I remember spending hours thinking about…nothing. It was so surreal.
I could only thank my fantastic boyfriend and those 2 nurses who gave me the daily infusion dosage that made me cheer up. I still don’t know what was in it, but it was good!
If you’ve never been hospitalized in Hungary, you don’t know how to rig the system. So I tell you.
You visit the specialist and tell them you want to feel as good as new, as soon as possible. When you see your doctor for the first time, you need to be ready & arrive prepared.
When the consultation is close to finishing, with a very subtle move, you put a fat envelope with cash in your doctor’s pocket. Don’t worry; those gowns have large pockets, so it’s easy to shove an envelope in.
None of you look at the envelope. None of you talk about the envelope.
But you both know it’s there.
Your doctor might touch the envelope just to examine how fat it is. After this, you make eye contact so you know you have an understanding. Then your doctor will sort out everything. That’s exactly what happened to me.
In Hungary, we have free healthcare. But exceptional care isn’t free.
During my recovery, I read a lot and found many articles about my condition. I didn’t know English back then, so my resources were limited.
But the more I read, the clearer it became that I was experiencing job burnout. I got nearly all the symptoms, even though I wasn’t even 30 then.
I started to feel better after spending a few weeks away from work. Once I got my thoughts back, I decided to quit. By then, I didn’t like my job at all, because I felt suffocated by it, and I couldn’t imagine going back. Not even for a day.
If I knew it was burnout at the onset, and if I had got help in time, I might have been still at the bank working as a branch manager. Who knows?
After resigning, I was fortunate to enter the IT and design world somewhat effortlessly. I loved digital product design; it’s like every facet of it spoke to my soul.
But let’s be honest — there have been moments when I felt like a cog in a machine, just part of a production line cranking out work to meet arbitrary deadlines.
Design is a creative field. I suspect these emotional rollercoasters might be a shared experience among us designers, perhaps more so than in other professions. When the workload is excessive, recognition is low, and my role in the team becomes as clear as mud — coupled with my autism and somewhat Type A personality — it’s a recipe for a mental disaster.
So, what can a girl do?
Well, when these thoughts and feelings start clouding my mind and soul, it’s my cue to hit the pause button. I’m lucky enough to afford to take a full-on break, disconnecting from work and colleagues, to recharge and reevaluate for weeks if needed.
Because if you still like your job, you don’t need to break up with it. You just need to take care of yourself.
My advice?
Don’t wait until something goes wrong or until your health begins to suffer and makes you pay attention.
Take the signs seriously because burnout is a real thing.
Disclaimer: This phase of my life happened in 2009, and I’ve learned great coping techniques since, and I’m well.