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I leaned my head against the wall and let out an exasperated sigh. 

The only sound in the room was the tick-tick-ticking of the analog clock hanging above the plexiglass window. I shifted in my chair, cringing as the skin behind my knee peeled away from the white vinyl fabric. 

This was my fourth doctor’s appointment in the last month. The cause of my chronic joint pain was a mystery. I was being kicked around the medical system like a Hacky Sack. The working diagnosis was unspecified arthritis. My best option, according to the rheumatologist, was to take a cocktail of medications that would hopefully reduce my pain. 

Months went by with no changes. 

My joint pain kept me awake at night. I stared at the ceiling for hours, trying to distract myself by thinking about my business. I was juggling pain, stress, and fatigue with impressive coordination. 

Eventually, I tossed the pills and started therapy. It took all of two sessions before my therapist straightened her beige cardigan and told me I was experiencing burnout. 

Turns out, there was nothing wrong with my body! 

Quite the contrary. My body was trying to get my attention. She was giving me valuable information about how I was doing, and I was ignoring her every step of the way. 

Nowadays, when I’m stressed, I can’t feel anything at all. My best answer when my therapist asks what I’m feeling in my body is, “Umm, a craving for Taco Bell?” 🤷‍♀️

In my ten years of burnout recovery, I’ve learned that numbness is the first clue I’m edging towards burnout. If I don’t respond to the clue, the numbness eventually morphs into pain.

Disconnecting from the wisdom of our physical sensations, be it pain or numbness, is a natural response to stress. 

When we’re stressed, our minds kick into overdrive. We need our executive functioning to get shit done; we need problem-solving and critical thinking to complete tasks.

This is healthy in small doses—but burnout doesn’t do anything in small doses. 

Burnout is the result of years of compounded stress. That’s years of our minds operating in high gear to help us cope with overwhelming expectations. The more we rely on our minds, the less we pay attention to the signs our body desperately tries to send us.

The easiest way to begin recovering from burnout is to listen to your body for clues about what you need to feel better. 

Listening for clues is easier when your body is being loud about it, like debilitating joint pain. But what about when we’re totally numb? Or what if we’re experiencing physical sensations that aren’t connected to burnout? 

The best clue your body gives you is a big sigh. 

There are two types of sighs to be on the lookout for: stressed sighs and sighs of relief. 

Stressed sighs feel tense and frustrating, like you need to scream and/or burst into tears. You feel a teensy bit better afterward—like releasing steam out of a pressure cooker—but you quickly return to feeling just as pressurized as before. 

When you notice a stressed sigh, ask yourself, what is my body trying to tell me here? 

Then, there’s the glorious sigh of relief. The kind of sigh that pulls all of the tension right out of your body, leaving you feeling lighter and more spacious. These sighs are a detox for your soul. 

When you notice a sigh of relief, ask yourself, what is my body trying to tell me here?

Your sigh is an invitation to embark on a data-gathering mission! Ask yourself, what data can I gather about how I’m feeling, what isn’t working for me, and what do I need to feel better? 

According to SCIENCE, we produce an average of 12 “spontaneous sighs” every hour. 

That’s 12 opportunities every hour to notice how you’re feeling and what you need. 

My invitation is simple: notice when you sigh and be curious about what your body might be trying to tell you. 

Your body is trying to help you. All you have to do is listen.