For years, I'd been able to push through almost anything.
Then suddenly, I couldn't.
In My Road to Burnout, I wrote about the years that led up to everything falling apart.
The anxiety.
The pressure.
The constant change.
The belief that no matter what happened, I just needed to keep going.
Eventually, something gave.
And when it did, my world came crashing down.
My anxiety went through the roof
I'd lived with anxiety for years, but this was different.
My anxiety levels suddenly went through the roof.
I became depressed.
I couldn't eat properly.
I couldn't sleep.
My mind wouldn't stop.
Everything felt like it had become too much at once, and I had absolutely no idea what was happening to me.
I'd gone from being someone who could manage projects, solve problems, carry responsibility and keep everything moving to someone who was struggling just to get through the day.
But I kept working.
Because at the time, I felt like I had no other option.
I thought I was failing everyone
One of the hardest parts wasn't just how bad I felt.
It was what I thought it said about me.
I felt like I was failing as a husband.
I felt like I was failing as a father.
I felt like I was failing at work.
And probably most painfully, I felt like I was failing myself.
I couldn't understand why I couldn't just get myself back together.
I'd pushed through difficult periods before.
I'd experienced anxiety.
I'd experienced depression.
I'd always found a way forward.
So why couldn't I do it this time?
I didn't understand burnout.
I didn't know I was AuDHD.
I didn't understand what years of pushing through everything might have been doing to me.
I just knew something was very wrong.
Then began the search for something that would help
Medication became part of trying to find a way forward.
I was initially prescribed sertraline.
My experience with it was difficult enough that I lasted three days.
After that, there was more waiting.
We were waiting for the results of genetic testing that was intended to help inform what we tried next.
That took around two months.
And throughout those two months, I kept pushing.
Kept working.
Kept trying to be a husband and a father.
Kept trying to function while inside I felt like I was falling apart.
Eventually, I started fluoxetine.
And again, my own experience was extremely difficult.
I became incredibly unwell.
But I kept telling myself to wait.
Give it time.
Let it start working.
Keep going.
So I waited.
For three months.
I kept waiting to feel better
When things still weren't right, lamotrigine was added.
That's when things became particularly frightening for me.
I developed what I believe may have been akathisia — an intense inability to settle or rest.
I couldn't stop moving.
There were days when I would walk backwards and forwards through the house.
Then outside.
Then around the backyard.
Again and again.
My body couldn't settle.
My mind couldn't settle.
I couldn't rest.
And the intrusive thoughts became incredibly intense.
I'd already been struggling for months.
I'd already been pushing myself just to get through each day.
Now even sitting still and escaping into rest seemed impossible.
I reached a point where I genuinely questioned how much longer I could keep doing it.
I couldn't give up
There were moments during that period when things became very dark.
I wondered whether I could keep going.
But there was also something inside me that kept saying:
I can't give up.
I couldn't give up on my family.
And I couldn't give up on myself.
Even when I couldn't see how things were going to improve, I had to believe that somehow they could.
Eventually, with medical guidance, those medications were stopped and I started paroxetine.
Around six weeks later, things finally began to settle.
Not fixed.
Not recovered.
But somewhat stable.
And after everything that had happened, stable felt enormous.
Stable wasn't the same as being well
The crisis had eased.
I could function again.
But something still wasn't right.
I felt numb.
And although things were calmer, my mind still wouldn't stop.
I hadn't returned to the person I'd been before everything happened.
At the time, though, I wasn't asking whether I'd recovered from burnout.
I was relieved that I was surviving it.
There is a huge difference between those two things.
Looking back now, I can see that getting out of the immediate crisis was only the beginning.
There was still so much I didn't understand.
Why had my mind always been so busy?
Why had anxiety followed me for so much of my life?
Why had constant change affected me so profoundly?
Why could I push myself so incredibly hard until suddenly I couldn't?
And why, even when the depression and anxiety became more manageable, did I still not feel like myself?
I didn't have those answers yet.
I didn't know it at the time, but those questions would eventually lead me somewhere completely unexpected.
Towards understanding my brain.
Towards understanding burnout.
And eventually, towards understanding AuDHD.
But that part of the story was still to come.
This is my personal experience of burnout, mental health and medication. Medication affects everyone differently, and nothing I've written here should be taken as medical advice or as an indication of how a particular medication will affect someone else. Medication decisions should be discussed with an appropriately qualified healthcare professional.
If you're struggling or experiencing frightening or intrusive thoughts, please reach out to someone you trust or an appropriate healthcare or crisis service where you live.