On Betrayal and Burnout
by Colleen Vanderlinden • August 27, 2010 • Miscellaneous • 16 Comments
I haven’t posted here in a while, and the reason has simply been that I haven’t felt that I’ve had anything all that interesting to say. The idea of writing, lately, at least, has been about as attractive as the idea of getting all of my fingernails pulled out one by one by a burly man wielding a pair of rusty pliers. I’ve been doing it, because that’s how I hold up my end of the money-making bargain in our family, but my heart is definitely not in it. There was nothing to tell you.
Burnout is a bitch.
When you go too long, too hard, and with too narrow a focus, you’re going to burn out. It doesn’t matter how much you love your topic, how much you want to help others, how much you love the act of writing. It doesn’t matter that if you didn’t write, you’d die, because it’s part of who you are. It doesn’t matter that the end product, whether you’re “on” or not, is usually pretty good, it doesn’t matter that you get to experience the satisfaction of a job well-done when it’s all over. Going forward is laughable. You need a break. And you can’t have one, because you’ve made promises to editors, publishers, family. Most of all, you’ve made a promise to yourself, that you’d be successful at this no matter how hard it was, no matter how many people told you that you can’t. You can’t let go, so you keep producing, and you keep going, even though you’ve depleted any inspiration you once had. What else can you do?
It’s been a fun August that way. And the tangible manifestation of my burnout is my garden. Overgrown, lanky, fighting powdery mildew and fucking squirrels, and it just keeps going, putting out paltry little tomatoes and anemic cucumbers because what else is it supposed to do? And I can’t help but despise it right now. I can’t help but personalize my garden’s failings, internalize them as my own. I have been betrayed. After all the hard work, after making sure I watered at soil level and provided plenty of good quality, healthy soil to grow in, I’ve been rewarded with powdery mildew. Of course I know that this is thanks to stupid weather and poor air circulation as the plants have become overgrown. Yet I can’t help taking it personally.
Feeling this way is stupid. I’ve always prided myself on being tough, on being able to push forward when it’s past time to curl up in a ball and hide. Today, I decided to take action.
I wreaked havoc on my garden. I pulled out cucumber vines, zucchini plants, and crookneck squashes. Their pickery stems scratched at my bare arms, bees buzzed angrily around my head, and pretty yellow blossoms faced me accusingly for cutting short their life. I was unmoved. Sometimes, you have to know when to call it quits. As I pulled, and cut, and dug, and stuffed mildewed vines into garbage bags, it was as if I was packing away each and every one of my personal failings. I remembered how much I love my garden, and how much I love writing. I looked forward to new life in the form of spinach and kale seedlings, in new projects and in saying what I mean. I remembered that I don’t have to impress anyone.
In the end, all that matters is appreciating your garden (and yourself) for what they are.
LOL, I first read fucking as a verb, not an adjective, which made me snicker. Because I have a 10-year-old boy sense of humor. But seriously, I feel ya. I really do. On being burned out, on my garden betraying me (or perhaps me betraying it, but that’s a harder idea to wrap my head around…) Like you, I’m tough because I had to be (as I suspect is true for you) and it’s a sign of pride. But we are human–it is NOT stupid to feel let down for whatever reason. Everyone feels that way. Glad you got out there today, that’s just what is on my to do list! <3!
Monica — Oh, they’re fucking that way, too, making more baby fucking squirrels to drive me crazy next year
Thanks. You’re right that we’re all human. I think many of us expect ourselves to be more. Damn overachievers
Colleen, your non-gardening posts are some of your best. You are an amazing, inspirational gardener and writer. Sharing what you consider to be your failings is so helpful to those of us in the same position. I’m so glad to know I’m not alone in the end-of-summer garden letdown.
I planted tons of pole beans, and it got super hot right as they were about to flower–so I’ve got nothing to show for my efforts but a compost bin full of vines. My cucumbers have been fighting PM for the last two weeks, and I’ve gotten so sick of picking cherry tomatoes that my husband is now using them as golf balls in the backyard. (Talk about an ugly garden.)
I too am ready for some crisp fall air and a change of scenery in the garden.
Let’s remember that if gardening (and writing) weren’t a challenge, it wouldn’t be nearly as rewarding!
Great post on garden/life/creative endeavour frustration. Taking action in any way is always good.
Re, taking it personally, I’ve been annoyed that my morning glories haven’t started blooming yet. Was it something I said?? Maybe in September.
Meh- It has been a crap gardening year all around. I make a living writing about herbs and mine all died. All died. Sit with that for a minute. All…dead
See? It totally sucks. As a gardener and writer, I commiserate with you 100%.
Love ya, sister!
Amy
Colleen, I feel like you are writing about me LOL. I have been so uninspired to write for the past few months. I think I’ve wrote 6 posts since June 1st. I have a notebook page full of stuff I need to write, but just – bleh.
Hell it is taking me 30 minutes to write this dang comment!
As far as my garden? Pitiful, just plain pitiful. We had hardly any rain this summer and it took its toll on my garden. The okra is the only thing that’s really flourishing (besides the weeds and the insect pests).
To be honest I’m tired of gardening this year, but I know I’ll be all gung-ho and giddy for spring to come by December.
Maybe next year will be better
Dayum!
I have to agree with Cynthia, this along with your post after the ugly gardens fiasco is awesome.
Not sure I’m burnt out on my garden but I really haven’t set foot in it in over a month.Maybe I should go look at it and see how I feel about it, perhaps it will inspire a cool post from me too.
Speaking of feeling betrayed, you know what dawned on me when pruning (which, yes, it’s the wrong time of year for?)? Hot banana shit! I think I’m going to need to (cry, whimper, moan) dig out 7 (SEVEN) huge ass sprawling junipers. That *I* planted. They have quadrupled in size and I need the room. Do I have shovels large enough? Thwack!
I can empathize! So many things this time of year to do and not enough time and the weather has been very challenging. Dealing with gardening frustration is why we have winter – at least that’s what I choose to believe!
Like Monica, I read fucking as a verb also. I totally hear you on the burnout! I am proud to hear you keep on truckin and you interrupted your negative thought process and made yourself feel better! Hugs to you Collen.
I didn’t think there were any words that would help me not feel so disappointed.. I spent hours in the sun to which I have become allergic (That’s another kick in the butt) and have zero to show for it other than squirrel and raccoon teeth marks in the sad remnants of s*** that didn’t grow anyway. All thanks to 2, count ‘em, 2 torrential rains that drowned my beautiful garden twice!! And to think in June I felt so superior to my neighbor to the east with her garden boxes and my neighbor to the south who grew stuff everywhere and with giant weeds interspersed… Thanks for setting this WTF tone. I personally needed it!!!!
Sometimes cleaning and clearing up is the only way to resolve it. I’m sorry you’ve been frustrated with your garden lately. And the squirrels! Hopefully this cleanse will restart your creative muse. Fall is coming. Sometimes it’s nice to greet a new season!
I’ll add to the cacophony of “I feel ya’s.” Every year in August I always feel annoyed that I have a blog that I am supposed to update regularly. Annoyed about writing one more word about a topic that I have covered every which way. Annoyed that my garden needs ever more attention thanks to all the extra watering. I think it’s just August. The most annoying month of the year.
This year I had the genius idea to start writing a book in August. I need a scarlet “M” embroidered onto my clothes for “Moron.”
I have to pull plants out of my garden too! I’ve been procrastinating because it’s been so hot out this week.
Sorry I’m so late responding to comments on this one, guys!
Cynthia — Thank you so much! I think late summer is an “ugly” time for many of our gardens
Sarah — Thanks. Morning glories can be fickle. This was a good year for mine, but last year, not so much.
Amy — That completely stinks. Love ya back
Tee — Isn’t that annoying? It’s not that we can’t think of something to write, it’s just that we don’t want to! lol You’re right though — by December, I’ll be missing gardening.
MBT — Thanks
Dave — I think you’re right — we definitely need winter to appreciate the gardening season more (and for a much-needed rest!)
Katie — Thanks!
Paji — I’m glad the post helped! Gardening can be frustrating, maddening, disappointing — but it’s always rewarding. Even during a not-so-great stretch (like this one!) I still learn a lot from my garden. Thanks so much for stopping by and commenting!
Laura — I agree! Looking forward to fall, for sure.
Fern — LOL But you’ll be a published “moron”
Congrats on the book deal again, and I think you’re right about August being the most annoying month.
Meems — The weather is definitely not helping the situation!
Oh I’m right there with you…I declared that I would do some gardening this year (not quite as easy, since I currently call a townhome home). My best friend and I built boxes. We were going to grow potatoes for the first time. Yay!
We ordered some special blue, red and yellow ones. Everything was going to be just super.
…And then we’ve had the crappiest weather this year. It rained and rained, which kept drowning the potatoes. Some blues survived. Then they died while I was away on vacation. Roomie watered them, but not sure what happened. There was one lone German Butterball plant that survived…until a hailstorm demolished it.
And thus this year I feel like I suck. I have a degree in horticulture, I write about gardening, and my stupid potatoes didn’t even survive.
But I really do blame the weather. And I need my own garden. Someday…