Burnout among therapists is a real risk. It feels as though, like many colleagues, I have dragged myself towards the Easter break. While the work can be immensely rewarding and a privilege, there is an emotional toil in the witnessing of stories that deny us our ignorance of the extremes of humanness, the working from home that blurs the distinctions between work-life and home-life and the continuing development that integrate the professional with the personal. And yet, I wouldn't choose any other profession.

My boundaries have been firmer this holiday, "I am not working between then and then." In the past, such statements have sometimes been met with a desperate response which has needed me to negotiate - more with myself than my client. This has not happened so much this time. Perhaps because there is a fundamental shift in me, realising that I may sometimes like to be needed but I don't need to be needed ... maybe. Or perhaps I have finally hit my limits on what I can give to others without giving to myself for a while. 

And so, this weekend, I am sat in a field in our campervan. This is one of my favourite renourishing activities - doing a bit of painting, a bit of reading, a bit of writing, a bit of mooching and a LOT of sleeping. My supervisory practice tells me that these short breaks in practice also bring important questions for us reflexive practitioners. Three days in, I know I am replenishing because I am also checking in with myself:   

• 'What am I modelling to my clients and supervisees at the moment?' 
• 'What am I prepared to commit to for the next 12 months, and why?' 
• 'What do I want to prioritise and why?' 
• 'What are the patterns of the past few months that I do or don't want to repeat, and why?' 

As I have already said, burnout among therapists is a real risk and challenging myself with questions like these are essential to my long-term wellbeing.

I wonder, "Are questions like this easy for other people?" I know they aren't easy for me. What I do know is that, in eight years of practice, I have not found a sustainable personal algorithm to pace myself by. Goals and intentions can seem concrete before becoming less so. Routines for work, rest and play are sustained for a while before I actively resist them. Time blocking works to a degree but time blindness and repetition of old, sneaky patterns mean that I can easily flog myself to the point of extreme tiredness. Little and often works ... until it doesn't and then it's head down and get on with it.

For better and/or worse, doing for other people is a consistently effective prioritising tool. At the moment, this does not seem helpful at this stage of my studies, where our peers are about to venture off in different directions of study. I have yet to experience how this change in pattern will help or hinder me. Thankfully, some aspects of study and research are an escape from the immediacy of my work. (For some reason, I feel a nervousness about that declaration. Is that not okay?) Yes, my learning informs my work but, on the whole, I am managing to bracket my agenda, day-to-day, so that I share information discerningly and relevantly with others. I know it is not for me, personally or professionally, to convince anyone of anything. On some level, I recognise another shift in me and what a trusted colleague refers to as 'working-class fight'. And so, it helps to remind myself that I am doing these studies primarily for me, to satisfy an interest and curiosity. 

There are answers to my above questions-to-self in here. They are not straightforward. They are process-driven in focus and intentional, rather than goal-oriented. I have some personal commitments to make, rather than professional. 

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