Showing up without burning out

Lessons from the therapy room

Image by Rajiv Bajaj on Unsplash

As a therapist, I’m often asked how I cope with listening to people’s pain and heartbreaking stories every day. The work requires being with the distress of others, hearing the darkest of stories, holding space for the depths of despair. Showing up no matter how you feel on any given day, or what is happening in your own life.

It’s not always easy.

I’ve met many people working in the mental health field with varying degrees of burnout. From the jaded and cynical, to the weary and absent, to the chronically ill, the work of supporting others can take its toll in a myriad of ways.

And I’ve grappled with this myself at times too. An autoimmune disease has meant that I’ve needed to guard my energy closely, and notice what influences how work and life impact my system.

There are ways to show up, both inside and outside of the therapy room, that are protective of our energy and sustain us to keep our internal spark alive. And there are ways to show up that are a fast track to depletion.

Some of the more obvious variables include having boundaries in place, knowing what you can and can’t offer, and honouring where your limits are. Looking out for moments where you may be saying yes when your gut is whispering (or screaming) a no. Taking on too much, putting others' needs ahead of your own, or staying in an environment not suited to your needs.

But more than this, I’ve found that how I show up in my body is key.

Meeting others from an embodied place can make all the difference.

As I’m listening to someone’s story, I try to be fully present to how the words are landing in my own body. I’m particularly curious about where tension, holding, and bracing show up. The moments when I suspend my breath, my nervous system starts to rev up, or disconnection kicks in.

In therapy, these moments offer valuable clues to what the other is experiencing. But they also show you where you are draining your own tank.

It sounds obvious, but remembering to breathe fully is hugely important.

We may find ourselves bracing or holding if we are resisting feeling something – when it feels too big, when panic kicks in, or we’re overthinking. As we brace, the experience becomes lodged in the body and can become stuck. As we breathe again, ground the nervous system, and settle into the support of the back body, we release the brakes and allow the energy to flow through.

Taking a full deep breath when big emotion arises in the room is a way of making space inside yourself to receive the other person’s experience, creating movement within your system, and cueing the other person to breathe too.

To resist what’s present is to shut down the flow of connection in the room. We need to feel it fully, allow ourselves to be affected by it, but not hold onto it.

If I find myself at the end of a session still holding the energy or tension in my body, there are a few things I’ve learned to do.

First, I move – even if it’s just to the kitchen or bathroom. I might add a few stretches or shake out my body. I open the windows and wash my hands – a symbolic release and reset (habits from the COVID years actually, that turned out to be surprisingly useful).

If the energy is big, I walk around the block at the first opportunity. I take my gaze to the sky and make contact with the trees. Even the rain can be surprisingly cleansing (in Auckland, the rain comes in big, fat, powerful bursts, and feels like an energetic reboot). If I were at home, I might take a shower. The key for me is to acknowledge what my body is holding, meet it, and support it to move. The thinking, understanding, and reflecting can come later, but I try to tend to what’s held in my body there and then.

When I’m in close connection with my body throughout the day, and keep the energy moving, I’m much less drained at the end of the day.

If I find myself having to show up to sessions tired and depleted, I try to stay close to my energy. Sessions are often quieter, softer. Instead of drawing on adrenal reserves to override the tiredness - and in doing so abandoning myself - I’ve learned to soften into the sensations of tiredness in my body and begin from there. It fosters a more authentic connection, greater presence, and it can invite the other person into a softer space within themselves.

I’ve often surprised myself by having really meaningful, tender exchanges in this space. Sometimes I even wonder if I do my best work on those days. Certainly, there’s a lesson in it.

It’s as though tiredness, or sleep deprivation, lowers the guards and dismantles some of the intellectual masking of being the professional who knows. In the humbling that takes place, a human-to-human, heart-to-heart, connection can be found. There’s nothing to fake. Professional boundaries are still observed, but I can allow my vulnerability to be present too. To not need to present as perfect. Clients know that there’s a real person in the room. They can feel my humanity, and it invites them to be real and vulnerable too.

Much of this applies equally to how we show up in social situations. Authenticity is almost always less depleting than the alternative. Being how we are demands fewer resources than overriding our state.

Burnout is not only about what we’re doing, it’s about how we’re showing up.

We burn out when we are over-extending ourselves and stretching beyond our limits.

We burn out when we are outside of ourselves, showing up and performing.

We burn out when we live at a distance from our needs and body signals, disconnected from our internal experience.

We burn out when we spend too much time in tension, bracing, and striving.

We burn out when we are stuck in fight, flight, or freeze, with an overactive nervous system running the show unchecked.

We burn out when intense periods of activation are not balanced with release, rest, and recovery.

We burn out when distress and trauma stay lodged in our system and are not able to move through.

To remain resourced requires that we stay present, authentic, and embodied. That we anchor in our softness and regulation. That we track closely what’s happening internally and respect our bodies’ signals and needs. That we continue to breathe, move, hydrate, and nourish ourselves.

Of course, there are systemic, cultural, and political aspects to burnout that are outside the sphere of our individual control, but how we show up in the face of external pressures, demands, and stressors is the part we can influence. And it can make an enormous difference.

I’d love to hear from you. What supports you to show up to life without burning out? How do you navigate this in social and professional contexts? Where do you find yourself getting stuck? I always appreciate your comments and reflections.

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Disclaimer - Content is intended for educational and entertainment purposes only, and is not a substitute for individualised mental health treatment or advice.