“Don’t believe everything you think.” The words resonated, especially with my tendency to overthink. I’d spend hours pondering life’s questions, particularly after facing burnout a decade ago. For twenty-two years, nursing was my identity. Burnout eroded my compassion, leaving me drained physically and emotionally. Leaving a profession you’ve always known is tough, even if it’s for the best.
High-stress environments had been my norm—intensive care and trauma ERs. But burnout rendered me unable to cope, spiraling into exhaustion and anxiety. I constantly questioned what went wrong, my overthinking spiraling out of control.
Once an avid planner, I could only ruminate. I dissected my life, breeding regret and despair. Simultaneously, I lost my spirituality, worsening the struggle.
Burnout’s trap is realizing it too late, leading back to familiar yet harmful roles. I didn’t choose what was best, only what I knew. The cycle persisted.
After quitting multiple jobs and dwindling savings, I found myself sitting on a metaphorical couch, immersed in overthinking. Regret and uncertainty devoured my mind. Amidst the chaos, someone advised mindfulness.
Mindfulness proved elusive—analyzing it was my immediate response. Sitting idle was tough; thoughts swirled. Until one day, I ventured outdoors. By a stream, I watched a leaf—no resistance, flowing with the water’s current.
This minute of pure presence illuminated the essence of mindfulness—releasing struggle and the grip of thoughts. It brought peace, albeit fleetingly.
Incorporating mindfulness was a dance between overthinking and being present. I realized the power of tiny moments—seconds or minutes—that held immense value. Clinging to mindfulness hindered its essence; it existed within, waiting to be embraced.
I learned mindfulness needn’t be grand—a touch, a sound, a moment would suffice. However, I still struggled until I stopped analyzing the concept. Fleeting moments, I realized, were alright.
The present is a transient bridge between past and future. To exist in the present is to forsake worry about before or after. I likened thoughts to a stream, drifting along like the leaf, finding tranquility in the now.
Two years later, burnout dissolved, anxiety lessened, and I reentered nursing. I eased in, savoring simple tasks. Mindfulness became my ally, enriching interactions with patients and colleagues. Finally, I cherished my career.
Mindfulness transformed me, allowing fleeting moments to shape my life. Going with life’s flow, I embraced my role as a leaf, navigating existence one mindful minute at a time. Fleeting, yet perfect.