The Burnout Business
I keep exploring the burnout - because I am so keen to avoid it myself.
Theme: The Burnout
Burnout isn’t just personal - it’s political. Care drains people emotionally, physically, and financially, and that exhaustion is linked to failures in social care and the NHS, not individual weakness.
Caring gives meaning, but it also takes a toll. The desire to ‘do the right thing’ makes it easy to overextend yourself, forcing constant, uncomfortable questions about limits, balance, and survival.
Creativity is my resistance and release. Writing and music are lifelines - helping me to process exhaustion, challenge power, and give voice to carers worn down by systems that value savings over people.
The Cost of Care
Burnout noun (EXHAUSTION)
exhaustion of physical or emotional strength or motivation; extreme tiredness or mental or physical illness caused by working too hard or trying to do too much
The burnout business isn’t just personal - it’s systemic. This is where my perspective as a qualified nurse and my experience working for an MP come in. I think of the cost of care - emotionally, politically and financially.
Caring for someone can be incredibly rewarding - I feel so privileged that I have experience of that reward. But it can also leave you exhausted, drained, and wondering how much longer you can keep going. I stepped in to caring for my father, thinking I knew how to manage his care and look after myself but I didn’t really fully understand how much it would demand and take out of me; it’s so easy to push yourself because you want to do the ‘right thing.’
So I need to keep asking myself:
How do I notice when I’m pushing too hard or getting exhausted?
What are the things I can regularly do that will help me stay well while caring for Milly?
How can I find joy, connection or meaning - on the hard days?
How do I balance my needs and the needs of my family - and still care enough?
One thing I need to do is listen to my family, particularly to my husband when he says, “Ease off the super care! Your basic care is enough today!’”
Meantime, watching politicians paper over the cracks of a broken social care system and a collapsing NHS frustrates me. I hear stories of nurses and carers juggling impossible shift and case loads, barely able to afford soaring rents - my youngest daughter among them - while hospitals are forced to make ‘efficiency savings’ and private hospitals and care companies profit from public need.
SPIN, SPEND SAVE!
The Fruit Machine of Healthcare - endless spinning while decisions and profits are made elsewhere.
I love playing around with words and images that depict how I feel. This fruit machine says so much for me:
the machine represents the NHS and Social Care - mechanised and transactional rather than caring and humane.
the nurses are symbols of all those who work in the health services - people who should be valued and protected, but are instead just treated as part of the mechanics.
the hand on the lever is the government controlling the spin, deciding when to pull, when to cash out, and when to walk away. The randomness isn’t random at all - it’s policy-driven, financially motivated, and it feels like it is deliberately detached from the human cost.
and the jackpot?! Not better care or outcomes, but savings or profit.
Maybe the lights flash when budgets balance!
Writing and creativity have been lifelines. Through singing, writing, music, and reflection, I’ve found a way to process the frustration, the exhaustion, and the empathy all at once. My musical, Immense Year, and the song Cash Cow channel the experiences of worn-down carers. In my musical, a nurse makes the difficult decision to strike - an act of defiance and hope. The line “don’t care about your title or your crown” expresses frustration with power and privilege, not necessarily the monarchy itself. It’s about those in positions of influence being disconnected from the realities faced by ordinary people.
(I hope you might listen to Cash Cow above, and other songs on www.immenseyear.lastandfound.co.uk)