Dealing with Burnout
Burnout is something that gets a decent bit of airtime in creative spaces. I’m not the first person to talk about burnout, and I’ll be far from the last. However, I do think that getting my own thoughts, feelings, and experiences with burnout out in a tangible way will help me, in some selfish way. Maybe you, whoever is reading this at whatever time, can relate and hopefully take some coping skills. I’m not perfect, and I think the way that I cope is probably, to say the least, probably wrong, but I still want to talk about it because why not.
As you probably know if you’re reading this, I major in fashion. Fashion is a wide term, and just as a bio student probably studies a lot they aren’t interested in, I do too. My last few semesters have been stressful. I’ve had major life events. I’ve dealt with many challenges not related to school in any way, and burnout comes much quicker with these events in the background. Burnout feels unescapable. It feels absolute. It feels like you’ll never make anything ever again. It feels like there is no solution. Like you might as well switch majors, or at the very least consider your life in some practical sense.
My solution is quite dumb.
When I am burned out, towards the end of my fuse, I do whatever is the opposite of what I’m burned out from. I find that hiking and fly fishing scratches that itch fairly well.
If you live in the northeast United States, you most likely have access to fairly nice trout streams within an hour of your house. It doesn’t mean you have to blue line, but it might take a little digging. Hell, they might not even hold that many trout. This is fine. The trout are not exactly the main point. Actually, quite the opposite.
If I was a bio major, maybe instead of fishing I’d go stare at brutalist architecture or go suit shopping. Maybe I’d go to the MFA. I don’t really know, but a refresh is nice.
“Trout live in beautiful places.”
You hear that a lot in fly fishing circles and it rings true. Fish are finicky and there will be days where you’ll blank unless you use your 20,000 dollar side scan Euro nymph extreme mono rig to find a trout and land a size 34 fly on its head. It’s nice to know that where ever I chase trout, there will be some pretty nice stuff to look at.
I often wonder what I must look like to hikers who walk past me while fishing. I’d like to think the image of me in their head is like a painting, something by Winslow Homer. The heroic fly fisherman. Rain or shine, he’s out there. I like to think I become part of the scene in their heads. Just a small little guy painted into a massive landscape. He throws an elegant snake roll cast, and a bird watcher stops to stare.
I don’t think they look at me like that. More than likely they stop, watch me get snagged in a tree, and probably mutter something like “asshole,” before turning around and forgetting all about me.
