It all came on rather suddenly. I began experiencing unfamiliar symptoms: migraines, swollen lymph nodes, body aches, fatigue, and an overwhelming sense of detachment and depression. In my personal therapy, all I could express was a sentiment of desperation: “I want out.” I felt utterly exhausted and overwhelmed by the life I had constructed, as if it were controlling me rather than the other way around. Instead of driving forward with purpose, I found myself being pulled and pushed along by the inertia of my career, relationships, and family responsibilities.
I began to suspect that I had developed a chronic autoimmune disorder, given its prevalence in my family. Seeking clarity, I scheduled an appointment with my doctor, who ordered a battery of tests to investigate potential infections, autoimmune disorders, thyroid irregularities, and more. While waiting for my lab results, I did as many do in our modern age, and I turned to Dr. Google to speculate on my condition. I became convinced that I was afflicted with lupus, scleroderma, cancer, or a slew of vitamin deficiencies. I awaited the results, bracing for the worst.
Upon receiving the results, I took a deep breath and cautiously reviewed them, only to discover that according to all the tests, I was perfectly healthy. In fact, my test results were exemplary. Yet, rather than experiencing relief, I was left with a profound sense of confusion and hopelessness.
The realization struck me: if my tests came back clear, then the source of my distress must be my life and my approach to it (read: me, myself, and I). It became evident that how I was conducting my life was making me unwell. I understood that it was myself I needed to change, but as it turns out, inner change is inherently challenging. My ego would prefer there to be an objective medical issue! Suddenly, I realized how my poor clients must feel when I encourage them to face life’s transitions (sorry, not sorry!).
The revelation that my symptoms were rooted in stress rather than physical illness prompted me to reflect deeply on the concept of burnout and how it affects our relationships. I realized that burnout isn’t just a buzzword; it’s a genuine threat to our mental health, physical well-being, and relationships.
When we push ourselves beyond our limits, whether in our careers, personal lives, or both, we set ourselves on a dangerous path toward burnout. The chronic stress and exhaustion associated with burnout can wreak havoc on our bodies and minds, leading to a myriad of health issues, from weakened immune systems to increased susceptibility to chronic conditions like heart disease and diabetes.
So, what does all of this have to do with relationships? Outside of my atrophied relationship with myself (as more than simply a workhorse) and my relationship with my life as burdensome and taxing, this sense of burnout didn’t just affect me individually; it also took a toll on my relationships. I found myself emotionally withdrawn and detached from my partner, struggling to express affection or engage in meaningful conversations. I felt mad at him often because I was so exhausted, looking for someone else to blame, and I truly do not have an absent husband; mine pulls his weight and more. This emotional distance and resentment led to disconnection and painful disillusionment between us.
My burnout impaired my communication skills, making it challenging to express my needs, concerns, and emotions effectively. I felt too exhausted even to talk and too dysregulated to remain calm long enough to express myself with my partner without taking the easy way out and pinning it all on him. I also noticed a decline in physical intimacy, as burnout often diminishes libido and sexual desire. This lack of intimacy strained our emotional bond and contributed to feelings of dissatisfaction and unhappiness.
Burnout exacerbated my irritability, frustration, and anger, leading to more frequent arguments and conflicts. These conflicts escalated due to heightened stress levels and a reduced capacity to manage emotions effectively. Additionally, I began prioritizing work and personal responsibilities over the needs of our relationship, leading my partner to feel neglected and abandoned. And, because I have the world’s kindest husband, which in these moments is very annoying (kidding- thankfully, one of us can remain calm), he looked deep inside and tried to understand his part in my overwhelm. He came up with some ways he could help stay on track with responsibilities and work on noticing tasks and initiating communication. While it did wonders, it did not fix my situation, further pointing out that much of this was a “me” issue. Quickly, we found ourselves in a state where he was doing more and more to try to help, and none of it fixed my feelings. He began to feel like a failure, like he wasn’t enough!
The cyclical nature of burnout and relationship problems created a vicious cycle, where stress from one area of life spilled over into the other, perpetuating a pattern of dysfunction. As our relationship quality deteriorated, I experienced even greater stress and burnout, further exacerbating the issues.
But beyond developing a clone of himself or six more arms, there was nothing to be done because, truly, I hadn’t really dug into my responsibility in the issue. I needed to learn how to come down from stress, practice what I KNOW, and teach my son and my clients. I needed to press on the brakes, reconnect with myself, and care for my body and soul. No one can do that for me. And as true as it may be that we live in a sick culture that leads us down the path of burnout, we each still have to recenter ourselves in our lives and cannot expect anyone to save us from that divine responsibility. And I say now that it is a divine responsibility because, thanks to my crisis, I have remembered what is truly important in life and have regained my capacity for connection.
I began to connect again with myself. I shored up my boundaries between myself and responsibilities outside of those I have committed to with my husband and my son. I remembered that I committed to them both that I would be present, continue to grow, and love them unconditionally. I never committed to them that I would be the best or the most productive or the best list tackler in all of the land. They don’t want that! They don’t want the “achiever”. They want to laugh, play, and share life with me.
Recognizing that I was burned out and, as a result, disconnected from myself was the crucial first step in addressing the actual issue: me, myself, and I. Once I recentered myself in my life and prioritized self-care, open communication, and sought support, I could drop back into connection with my partner. The pathway to other-connection is always self-connection. This is something I know and teach, and yet even I forget as I get caught in the endless undertow of busyness. I share this personal story as a couples therapist because I want to affirm that couples can navigate through burnout together and strengthen their bond in the process. But, and this is the most important part, we have to start with our relationships with ourselves.
In my own journey, confronting the reality of burnout was a wake-up call. It forced me to reevaluate my priorities and make significant changes to reclaim control over my life in order to steer toward my actual priorities, not those of the larger culture. While the path to recovery may be challenging, it’s also incredibly liberating. By prioritizing self-care, nurturing healthy relationships, and fostering a more balanced approach to life, we can not only overcome burnout but also thrive in all aspects of our lives.
Dr. Jessie Brown 
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