Mingo.Life

This is a difficult subject to write about.

The vegetable garden lies unattended, overrun by weeds.
My PlayStation games sit in a drawer, the only use they get is when my toddler pulls them out and scatters them across the floor.
The console itself lies unplugged, collecting dust.
In the garage, my wetsuit hangs untouched, now home to a small spider, seeing far more use from it than I have this year.
My board games are slowly being buried under bags of unsorted baby clothes and documents beneath the stairs.
The once-bright light that illuminated my hobbies is now dimming, as something darker begins to spread its insidious grip.

I’m just going to be open and put my cards on the table, using this as a platform to address something that many of us face but don’t often talk about: Burnout—physically, mentally, and emotionally.

It can manifest in anger, depression, apathy, and a whole host of kindred emotions. A colleague of mine once compared it to a cyst in your mind, slowly filling up with each drip of stress. If you don’t find a way to drain it? Guess what, it goes ‘Pop’, and so do you.
For me? It crept up and caught me off guard earlier this year.
Now, I’m comfortably in a place where I can talk about it. My once unshakable resilience crumbled under the weight of being overworked on every front, including in my own home, with sleep becoming a distant memory and no hint of relief in sight.
Just keep going.
Just, keep going…
Just…

Picture the scene with me. I was finally sitting on the aircraft, gearing up for take-off, my favourite part of flying. I love that little fluttery sensation you get in your stomach when the wheels lift off the tarmac, and you head straight for the sky. We were travelling in the middle of summer this year to an all-inclusive, hot sunshine, sandy beach Canary Island resort for a quick three night getaway – which is realistically all we can logistically do.

But something was off.

I wasn’t my usual holiday-mode bouncing-off-the-walls self. I found myself staring quietly out at the tarmac at Bristol Airport, barely able to keep my eyes open. The lively chatter of fellow holiday-goers faded into the background, and I felt oddly disconnected.

The signs were there, had I paid attention. There had been no countdown of ‘X sleeps to go’. There were no enthusiastically detailed travel plans shared with the world, or anything written at all on here, for weeks. Instead, the suitcases were thrown together in a blur of chaos, while we juggled two screaming little ones. I worked right up until the last minute, and when I wasn’t working, I was racing through a never-ending list of errands.

I am utterly exhausted.

To be honest, exhaustion doesn’t even begin to cover it—I was drained, frustrated, angry, and slipping into a dark place. Every part of me craved one thing: sleep. Not a cocktail at the bar, not a four course fancy meal, but a long, deep, Odin-like slumber.

The brain fog was overpowering, and it’s a wonder I managed to navigate to the airport safely to begin with.
I’ve been here before.
I was experiencing burnout. No, not the 2001 video game where you get to spectacularly crash cars into one another, but rather the much brushed aside yet very real condition many of us try to ignore. I suspect you, dear reader, may well have experienced this too. How did it get this bad? And what should we do about it?

This year was always going to be difficult; I knew that from the start. With a six-month-old baby and with Emma, still slowly recovering from her illness, life in this house requires more support than I honestly feel I can provide alone. Our four-year-old daughter, who has several disabilities, also needs constant 24/7 care. She’s tube-fed, and mealtimes have their own set of challenges. Adjusting to the new baby has been hard on her, too. She’s struggling, often melting down and “stimming” by shaking her head or, recently, hitting herself. I know I need to stay calm and offer her soothing reassurance, but it’s emotionally and physically draining. On a typical night, I average around six hours of broken sleep, tops.

Don’t get me wrong—I adore my two little girls. They’re the heart of everything here, but it pains me that I couldn’t spend more time with them this summer instead of being at work. I just wish more people understood the sheer weight of it all. This isn’t just a tough summer—it’s an exhausting, all-consuming journey, and some days, it feels like we’re barely holding it together.

I just wish someone understood.

This August, I worked 48, 67.5, and 51 hour weeks back to back, and that was the time I actually recorded.
In case you somehow missed the news over here in the UK; hundreds of vile, animalistic racists decided to be violent and wreak havoc. At the end of it all, many are now in prison – and rightfully so. The physical and mental strain on the emergency services was, and still is, incredible. However, that’s the job I and many others signed up to do. And I’m proud of it. But people like this rarely consider the impact of their actions when they’re intent on smashing up your local Greggs. The uniform might represent authority, but beneath it are human beings—exhausted, stretched thin and, despite a recent Sky News article declaring it the most stressful job in the UK, still showing up, day after day, because that’s just what we do.

I wish people understood.

So, amidst all the chaos, I’m somehow trying to plan for the future. Our mortgage is coming up for renewal, and we owe £71,000 to the government through the Help to Buy Scheme. It feels like their greatest heist yet, but it was the only way we could ever get on the property ladder. Now, with Poppy’s specialist equipment and Evelyn’s growing needs, I’ve realized we need way more space. The only viable option is to extend into the garage, which has kicked off a whole new project.

This means juggling architects, mortgage advisors, banks, and an endless stream of paperwork. I’ve been clearing boxes from one room to the next, and soon, I’ll be boarding up the entire loft just to make room. I’ve signed so many documents that my pen actually ran out. And, of course, all of these forms come with strict deadlines, despite waiting weeks to hear back from various organisations. It’s led to countless nights of me scribbling through paperwork after a long shift, often past midnight – and some of it was completely pointless, having to be done again from scratch due to their error. I swear they make these processes deliberately convoluted, as if that complexity gives them a sense of importance.

And through it all, the clock is always ticking. The cyst fills up a little more.

They can’t be bothered to understand.

I also recently had dental surgery. What was supposed to be a simple procedure turned out to be anything but, as usual. Now, I’m left with lingering nerve damage on the right side of my face, a constant reminder of how things don’t like to go as planned. With winter approaching, I’ve discovered the cold weather only makes it worse, aggravating the nerve and tightening my jaw on one side. In photos, it looks like I’m smiling, but the truth is, it physically hurts every time I do.

…

And, as I write part of this as a draft, I’m sat beside Emma in accident and emergency. Her illness has flared up pretty badly this week, so we’re spending my days off (ironically known as “Rest Days” in my profession) in the hospital, while she has treatment and tests.



Pop!

BURNOUT.
There it is...
My cup is full.

So, what exactly is burnout, then?
According to WebMD, “Burnout is a form of exhaustion caused by constantly feeling swamped. It happens when we experience too much emotional, physical, and mental fatigue for too long.”

While it isn’t officially classified as a mental disorder, the World Health Organization (WHO) does acknowledge it in their ICD-11, emphasizing its occupational roots. They describe it as, “feelings of energy depletion or exhaustion; increased mental distance from one’s job, or feelings of negativism or cynicism related to it.”

However, the impact of burnout isn’t limited to the workplace. The WHO’s later guidance (QF27) introduces the concept of “caregiver burnout,” recognizing that burnout can stem from personal responsibilities—especially when caring for others becomes overwhelming.
Sounds familiar.

I point out here that, for me, it isn’t just any one single factor that led me to where I am. Sat here on the plane, watching mindlessly as the view turns to endless white clouds, and still struggling to care as the drinks trolley rattles past. If I didn’t have the pressures of caregiving for three beautiful human beings, I’d probably find my job a breeze. And without the relentless intensity of my frontline work, I wouldn’t feel my blood pressure rise the second some more legal house-related paperwork lands in my inbox. Without one thing, maybe the other wouldn’t feel so overwhelming, and so on. But that’s the point—each stressor feeds into the next until it’s hard to see where one ends and the other begins.

So, what should we do about it?
There’s that phrase “work-life balance” that gets tossed around, but what about just “life balance”? What do you do when the deck feels stacked against you? Sure, there are techniques out there—mindfulness, yoga, wellness, sleep hygiene, healthy eating, exercise, and so on.
I don’t want to discredit those practices or the benefits they offer, but for me, the terminology has become so overused that it often feels like empty lip service. It washes over you without making a real impact. When you’re in the thick of it, these concepts can seem distant and unattainable, especially when survival takes precedence over self-care. So, the question remains: How do we find genuine balance in a life that feels perpetually out of whack?

Here’s what I do.

Remember back during COVID times when Boris Johnson kept throwing around the term “circuit breaker”? Turns out, the floppy-haired fool was onto something. You can call it a “fire break” if you want to sound cool. It’s all about having something in your calendar to look forward to—something that breaks the monotony and lifts you out of that slump. It should be a fixed, booked event that’s just for you, allowing you to fully forget everything else for a little while.

With that kind of anticipation, the pressures of life can build as much as they want, but they can’t hurt you because you have a release valve coming up. The decompression that follows can be monumental. I’ve got a couple of ideas lined up for myself for example, a rock concert where I can throw myself into a mosh pit carelessly, your classic stereotypical spa day, a long walk on the beach, and next year, I’m hoping to take a week off work just to play GTA 6 when it comes out.

But perhaps the most effective remedy of all is a short, simple getaway. Imagine being away from that infernal “always available” device you’re reading this on. Away from the dishes, baby bottles, traffic jams, relentless rain, early mornings, letters, and phone calls. Let’s be honest—away from this shameful country, even. Just… away.

Having that escape to look forward to can be a game-changer, a crucial step in regaining balance and perspective.
Trust me.

So we’re back on the plane then. The clouds begin to part, revealing stretches of golden beaches and shimmering turquoise waters below.
We land. Some people clap, I don’t know why.
Stepping off the plane into the warmth, I take a deep breath, and for the first time in ages, I notice the sun on my skin. In that moment, the burnout begins to melt away, and the tightness in my chest starts to ease.

Three or four nights is not a long break, considering most people take between seven and fourteen days away for an actual holiday, which is awesome for them. Those who say, “What? Another holiday?”, can get in the bin. It’s not a holiday in the conventional sense, but it works.

By strategically planning these short circuit breaks every few months, I manage to keep burnout at bay. I shut down the system, break the routine, and pull myself out of the coal mine for some fresh air. I have dozens of open tabs at any given time, scouring websites like SkyScanner for those hidden gems—£37 RyanAir flights to sunny destinations or £50 last-minute AirBnB weekends away in a wooden lodge in Cornwall—making these escapes financially and logistically feasible. There are also facebook groups that share cheap family holiday deals suitable for little ones, well worth joining. This method gives me just enough of a breather to hit that dump valve and release the pressure before it builds up into something catastrophic.

The board games remain locked away. The video games are still sitting un-played.
The vegetables have long since died, and the wetsuit sits patiently in the cold dark.
I don’t know when any of this will change. I hope, for my sake, that it does, and I will try my best to claw back my former life. At least now, though, now I can breathe and coordinate my thoughts. I accept how things are, and I know my place in them. Now, I’ve had the healing sun on my skin.
I understand myself. I can change the way I think about stress.

I need to say thank you at this point.
Thank you to my parents, and thank you to Emma’s parents. The only way I was able to board that aircraft in the first place was with their support, involvement with their grandchildren, and acceptance that we needed some time to heal and recover.
Only then can I return and be father, husband, manager, homeowner, carer, therapist, problem-solver, and all-around great guy! Don’t get me wrong, we have plenty of adventures with our little monsters, too, but that’s a whole other blog post (coming soon)!

Is the thought of another night of a house full of screaming, fighting, and crying children causing your heart to race?
Is it taking all your energy just to turn up to work, and you feel physically ill through it?
Is tomorrow just another day grinding through life?
Is sleep fast becoming a luxury you apparently don’t deserve?
I see you.

I UNDERSTAND.

Am I out of the woods yet? The debilitating migraine I suffered this week says otherwise, but each new day brings a fresh sunrise and an opportunity to view life through a different lens.

Thanks for reading to the end. If this article struck a chord with you, in any way, I welcome the discourse. Leave me a comment, and maybe share your own techniques for battling burnout, no matter how obscure they may be. Above all else, remember to breathe and do something about it.

Look after yourself.

[Buy Emma a coffee – she works hard & without her, I can’t even picture the mess we’d be in!]
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