What does “getting back to your old self” actually mean?

When I was in the initial stage of my burnout, when I felt totally consumed with a real sense of not knowing what was up or what was down. If I could be trusted to make a decision or that I even wanted to. When I didn’t recognise who I was looking at in the mirror, all I wanted was to get “back to my old self”. 

I felt adrift in a sea of confusion and I had no real anchor to hold on to. Floating and flailing around, silently drowning and in a deep sadness that was weighed down further by the mental and physical fatigue I was experiencing. 

I’d have given anything to flip a switch and return to who I had previously been, to wake up full of energy and be busy running through the day doing the many things that I had set as my to do list. The constant drive of being productive was something I craved, so it could give me something to follow and a routine to religiously stick to.

Instead I was stuck with the sofa as company and staring out of the window as my daily activity, panicking at having to make the decision of what to do with the limited energy or head space I had. Waves of fear creeping up on me, denial that I needed to stop being a constant companion for a good few weeks. Anger at anyone suggesting I “just give in to it”. I did not want to look like I wasn’t capable. I had always been capable and I believed I needed to continue to, as my whole self worth and purpose depended on it.

Soon enough, the body gave up the fight. I had to accept that if I was to “get back to myself”, I had to stop the forcing and rest. Giving myself permission to sit and binge Netflix, felt like a real let down. That I was not just being lazy, I was actually failing. Failing to be strong enough to cope, Failing to be capable of being responsible as a grown adult should. I felt embarrassed to say that I couldn’t work, that I had to pause any creative work to take my business forward. 

I felt a fraud, how could I say that I can support people with their emotions if I can’t contain my own. Despite knowing that I was being unfair to myself, and my ability to be a good therapist and nurse had no reflection on what was happening to me in this burnout, I still wanted to hold onto the narrative that made me feel inadequate. Like I deserved to feel this way. 

Some days I would feel on top of life again, that I would get a window of energy that I could use to go to the yoga studio, do a yoga class and then follow it with a reformer class chaser. I pushed myself with the “I should be active” stick, telling myself the story that going would do me good. But this would often land with a relapse of me falling back into bed or the sofa, feeling utterly wiped out and not able to do anything for the next couple of days. I had always been active, always ensuring I was doing something, often more than I had capacity too, but was driven to see myself as fit. So not doing my regular 7 classes a week, felt again that I was failing. 

It took me a long time to come to the realisation that I was just prolonging my recovery by going to these classes, making my body work hard whilst it was clearly telling me it didn’t have the capacity to achieve this. Forcing the little iron reserves I had to work hard and not letting the levels recover through resting and addressing the depletion, not having the red blood cells to transport the oxygen that was needed for each of the high intensity classes I put myself through. 

When I began to be kinder to myself, began to listen to my body and the words of kindness and support from my husband and those supportive friends I relaxed into the process I was in. I slept longer without guilt, I would get fresh air and gentle walks as a nearly daily activity. 

It was during these walks, where I had the sound of nature as my background music, that I could begin to tune into the noise that had been playing in my head for so long. I began to see repetition of thoughts, and feelings in my body that I had had for a long time. These thoughts and feelings that I had become accustomed too and had believed was just part of who I was. 

I would sit and run through periods of my life where I had overcome challenges; the breakdown of my first marriage, the forced bankruptcy following this and the loss of my home. I remembered how I pushed through this, hadn’t stopped and grieved. Had played down the pain I was in, pushed the hurt and pain I’d experienced further down and silenced it, not just to myself but to those around me. 

I would sit and think of my career. How I had since practically leaving school been working to support others. I had spent years with young people in pain, supporting them in some of the hardest times of their lives. Listening to tales of abuse, witnessing and responding to their pain and helping them through their self-harming and self destructive behaviours. 

I remembered as the oldest child how I had always tried to look out for my little sisters, how I had wanted to help my parents when I could see they were busy, learning to become the dependable one. This taught me how I also saw myself as a friend. How I thought that to be liked was to do, to be available at all times and to reach out and fix anything and everything for them. Be the capable one.

During these walks I began to see how all these patterns had become so embedded in my very being that I had completely lost who I actually was. 

I didn’t think for one minute that I didn’t have to do all of that, that I didn’t need to hold on to the title of fixer and doer. That it was ok for me to just be me. 

I wanted to start a new. I wanted to understand what now drove me to be me. What me at 48 needed and wanted. I recognised that I had so many things I desired or was curious about, tucked away inside the darkness of my soul. Desperately wanting to be seen and heard. Wanting space to unfold and discover what was available for me to experience. 

I loved my work, I loved supporting others. I know I was good at that. But I also knew I could work with more people in a different way. 

I knew in my bones that what I was moving through was the turning point in my life that I had been avoiding, whilst I was being busy and doing. I recognised that this pause, this total shutdown was coming to teach me who I was and what I was here to do. 

So now, whilst I’m more in the light than the dark, I don’t want to return to being “my old self”. I am narrating a new story. Writing a new legacy that I want to leave behind. 

I’m beginning to understand what lights me up, what I want and need to make my life fulfilled and satisfied. What habits are leaving and what new ones are being improved and created. 

Hitting the breaks in life, getting ill, your life crumbling around you. When you lose who you thought you were and find yourself looking at a stranger in the mirror is terrifying. It happens out of nowhere, for many of us women it hits us hard and fiercely. 

But I want to offer you this. It isn’t the end of the road, it's not going to be like it forever. You can sit in the midst of it all, confused and overwhelmed. But you can also lean into it and let go of striving. Become open to knowing that this is when we can live in our power, we can create magic here. We are so much stronger than we think we are, we are warriors, we fight the fights that no one knows we are fighting and we come out on top. 

This is what is being birthed through my new work; “Radical Realness” is a programme for those who want change. Those who want to take control of what is happening to them. To look at what is underneath the confusion and to begin to write new stories. Those of you who are ready to take an honest look at what you are doing, saying and thinking and want to do differently.

Reach out if you want to discuss further.

With Love

Julianne