Notes to self on burnout + boundary

“I wonder about how to be honest, when showing up for someone else means abandoning myself”. 

These are the words I wrote in August, 2021. I sat on my living room floor in tears as I was getting ready to support a client in the hours to come. My anxiety had made a home for itself deep in my center, an invisible yet palpable elephant on my chest. This is what my burnout looked like. I was exhausted and sick. There were piles of clothes on my bedroom floor,

endless dishes in my sink. I did not recognize myself. 

I knew at that moment that I would call in backup for the birth that was coming.

…

The previous two years in a (very small) nutshell included leaving a job and a community that I knew and loved for 8 years for full time birthwork, joining & leaving a doula group that offered a sense of financial security AND felt restrictive, boundaryless, and abusive, while living in & through a global pandemic in which I had to redefine how to show up for birthing families while keeping myself and the larger community safe. Throughout this time, and under the umbrella of these circumstances, I entered a deep relationship with some of my own shadows; loneliness, anxiety, shame, grief, and depression. 

In hindsight, I can see the things that led to that moment on the floor. 

It has been a long journey and I had been pushing myself forward in ways that were not sustainable for a long while. 

It is a scary thing to not recognize myself in relation to the work I have deeply loved and chosen for the past five years. This feeling of burnout became strongest the week I found out I was accepted into a midwifery program, which made it even more vulnerable. 

How can I be choosing a path that it seems I can't bear to be on? 

Capitalism, Professionalism, woundedness and the Doula.

The longer I am here in the birth (doula) community, as I simultaneously pull back the veils of my own workings, the more I am recognizing the normalization of complete self sacrifice in this work: the doula who is not eating/ hydrating/ sleeping for days at a birth and takes as many clients as they can.

I will no longer normalize this behavior for myself. 

The reality is, I cannot be present, advocate for, and meet my clients where they are if I have nothing in my tank. I am not a machine. 

When I am operating at a place of depletion, the boundary between what’s happening in front of me and the layered world of the past, that lives deep in my bones, gets fuzzy. 

In these moments, it becomes almost impossible to remain grounded and clear, in spaces that can often be triggering to the wounds of my lifetime, and that of my ancestors. 

Growing up in a single parent household, on welfare, and working paycheck to paycheck my whole adult life, I have learned ‘you do what you have to’. This has meant, for a long time, that I take every job opportunity that comes my way. 

In my birthwork, the cost of this practice is far too great. 

As I sift through the many layers of my own woundedness, and continue a path of healing, and boundary of self, I am beginning to realize the patterns of codependence that I encounter when I am not careful to meet my foundational needs.

The false idea that my self worth directly correlates to how well I care for others. My addiction to chronic caregiving, as a way to feel worthy.These are the things I continue to come up against and unpack as I navigate what it is to choose a life as a healer, a birthworker, and a midwife. 

It is when I am honest and prioritize self care, that I am able to receive the many gifts that exist within a life of service. It is when I am in alignment with my values, when I can actually feel valued, witnessed, and recognized. 

It is in this place that I am energized.

Whole Self, boundarylessness, and the boundary.

My practice is relationship based,  because I am a relationship based human.

Everything starts here. 

There is not one way to show up. There are countless ways. 

Some are bold and clear, and others more subtle and quiet; where you really have to lean in to feel what’s there. 

Meeting folks in transition space is sacred. I show up with my whole spirit in this work. To be in the birth space, for me, in some ways is to become boundaryless. 

I unfurl and open. 

The more I recognize my truth, the more important it becomes to choose who I am doing this ceremonial dance beside, with deep care. 

What am I willing to do in this work? 

How much of myself am I willing to share? 

How am I willing to show up within the context of this relationship? 

Is this the right fit?

How do I feel in my body?

These are hard questions, and the more that I ask them, I recognize that they are not fixed points. I honor and trust my intuition. I listen closely to Self, as I have my first introduction with folks, holding these questions close. 

I am practicing saying NO. 

Ritual and spirit.

Being in this work for me, is of spirit 

and I am a creature who lives by ritual. 

How do I sew myself up after leaving a birth? 

I return home as a mushy and permeable version of myself. Rest and restoration of self is a thing that takes time. One of the first things I do to show up for myself is shower.

I burn tobacco, cedar, and sage, to connect to my ancestors. 

I eat warming foods and drink tea. 

I cry. 

I write down the stories on paper. 

I process within my community.

 I am learning to honor this time and space more fully. I sometimes want to keep a full day of appointments, but the truth is, this closing of self boundary and reintegration takes time.

How do I set down AND continue to hold the ceremony and transition? 

I am recognizing that I need a more clear ritual for the closing of the circle.

This has a direct and critical impact on my own processing, and for the families that I work with, as well.

I have been imagining the stories I hold,

in a basket, 

wrapped in cotton.

I set them down in a garden of flowers and fruit trees. 

I can come to visit, tend, water, reflect, and admire, 

but they are not mine to hold, in my body. 

Wellness.

How do I facilitate wellness?

My commitment to wellness has to be a priority. 

This is not always easy. This is a messy and fumbling road of learning and unlearning. 

The reclamation of my wellness has a direct impact on my lineage that came before me, 

and after me. The reclamation of my wellness has a direct impact on my community.

Wellness for me, is a container in which I feel connected to myself.

I feel connected to my communities.

I am sleeping.

I am nourished. 

I have a (flexible) routine and ritual.

I have a therapist that I see weekly. 

Wellness is walking up in the morning to a song I can dance to in my kitchen.

It is art making. 

It is walking my dog and snuggling my cat. 

It is beside the ocean. 

It is visiting the trees.

It is long phone conversations with my dearest humans. 

It is ice cream. 

Wellness is learning how to ask for help.

Wellness is learning how to receive.

Community.

Being a community member is vital to my wellness in this work. 

I honor the many teachers and mentors I have had the privilege to have met along the way. This has made it possible, and continues to make it possible for me to be here. 

Within the birthing world. Being in a relationship with birth workers I can trust is monumental in my sustainability. The work to cultivate relationships that are nourishing, reciprocal, honest and respectful is critical to my well being. Pertinent to this, has been developing closer relationships with other BIPOC birthworkers. 

I have over the years built solid back up relationships that I trust. We are different, and yet, I know and trust that if something comes up and I need support, they will show up with an open heart, similar values, mutual respect and commitment. 

I work hard  to show up with humility and offering: meals to share, time, resources, humility, listening, and an open heart.

Trust.

How will I show up for myself with gentleness & compassion, and with accountability when I make mistakes? 

I do not have all the answers. I will make mistakes. I am still learning. 

But I will be accountable and honest. 

Showing up authentically is critical. I am learning that showing up as anything but myself is not sustainable. Being radically honest about who I am is a tool that will continue to unfold the layers of my journey. 

It’s okay to feel lost. 

I trust myself.

--Notes to self, on burnout and boundary.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Maliya Rubio- Mills (she/they) is River Blue Birth; a full spectrum birth worker, student midwife, and artist residing on unceded Ramaytush Ohlone Land (SF/Bay Area). 

Maliya’s practice is rooted in relationship, kindness, and a human centered model of holistic care and support. Through the lens of an indiginous and intersectional identity, Maliya is especially interested in creating access and supporting sovereignty for individuals &  families that find themselves on the margins of social constructs due to ability, race, ethnicity, gender, politics, and socio-economic backgrounds. She is committed to a practice that uplifts community, social justice, and safe reproductive care practices.

Born at home and the youngest of three children raised by a single mama, Maliya has been interested in family care & birth practices for as long as they can remember. The journey towards community care started long before her first Doula training in 2016, and was deeply nurtured while working at a parent-participation preschool in San Francisco, in the 8 years prior. The smallest of humans continue to be some of Maliya’s greatest teachers.

Outside of the birth space, you will often find them walking in the trees or alongside the ocean, cozy at home with their plant & animal family, or creating with their hands. Maliya’s favorite things include (but are certainly not limited to) cloud shadows on a mountain range, ice cream, and gathering with humans around nourishing food. To learn more about Maliya, and their practice, please visit River Blue Birth.