Rewilding My Spirit: A Year of Burnout, Rest, and Recovery

Sabbatical Check-In: 11 Months In (and Still Going)

I’ve been on sabbatical for the past eleven months — yowsers.

Katy with a multi colored hat on standing in front of a building with a gold dome -- She's in Boston here!

When my spouse first brought up the idea (he saw the need before I did), I assumed it would be four months… maybe six. But here we are at eleven, and I expect it’ll be a few more. Yep, I was experiencing intense burnout and needed oodles of rest and recovery. Here we are.

Lesson learned: I was really, really burned out.

Looking back, I realize I haven’t taken a sustained break longer than a week—maybe two—well, ever. Even typing that makes my mind boggle, because I do know better. But when you’re in the thick of it, it can be hard to see what’s happening, you know?

Privilege check: I know it’s a huge gift that my household can withstand me taking a real break. I’m profoundly grateful, and I’ve tried not to squander the time. But still rest. And deal with everything. You get it.

So, here’s a sabbatical check-in.

Table of Contents

The early months: facing burnout
Resisting the urge to “fix it” with more doing
What I’ve been nourishing during this season
On my shamanic path (including academics and writing)
What’s next (and how to stay connected)
Bo nus: Pictures from Sabbatical

The Early Months: Facing Burnout

The first few months weren’t easy. I was coming to terms with burnout—the intense kind—and all the feelings that come with it. Not fun feelings, either.

Burnout has a way of whispering that you’re burned out because you’re worthless.

The truth is: we’re burned out because we live in a society that doesn’t value rest. And for many of us—especially women— there’s also the added weight of living with unseen neurodivergence leading to intense nervous-system strain that goes unnamed for years. The irony is that I’ve suggested neurodivergence screening for many people before, but could not see it in myself, until recently.

In that stretch, my spiritual tools and my relationships with my guides helped carry me.

A note I keep returning to: developing your spirituality doesn’t mean you won’t experience hardship. It means you have tools (and deep relationships) that can hold you through it. And it also means your hardships aren’t fueled by religious guilt and shame—which, in my book, is a major bonus.

Resisting the urge to “fix it” with more doing (and instead opting for rest and recovery)

I also had to resist the urge to immediately dive into trainings, classes, and self-development. (This was genuinely hard. I’m a do-er and a learner.)

But I knew that reflex would pull me away from the point of sabbatical: rest, and the slow rediscovery of parts of myself that had been buried under productivity. To make room for what the Divine might reveal—on its own timeline, not mine.

For many months, the work was mostly simple: resting. Not long complicated rituals, but short times to wrestle, to be with who I was, who I am, and who I’m becoming. I made space to have deep emotions but not let them take up residence inside me in a stuck kind of way.

And just so we’re clear: that kind of “just being” is not easy. But it was what I needed to steady again.

What I’ve been nourishing during this season

Books have always been my friend, and I’ve read a lot this year—new books, and a few old favorites.

Writing, too, has been calling me back. It’s had only scraps of my attention in the past decade, so I’ve been gently making more space for it. My academic work got some attention, with the publication of Trans Biblical (affiliate link, no extra cost to you), and a contract for a new edited book (details to come).

And living in Ireland, I knew it was time to take the Irish language seriously. I’ve done a few short-term classes to get basic greetings and elementary grammar into my brain. Yes, it’s “a class,” but it’s also a way of greeting the soul of the land I love. A popular Irish saying is Tír gan teanga, tír gan anam,” or “A country without a language is a country without a soul.”

The Irish landscape continues to call to me as well, and I’ve kept visiting ancient sites—wells, stone circles, and sacred places. The ancestors have drawn very close this past year, for which I’m deeply grateful. The recent death of my 97 year old grandmother, who I got to see just 10 hours before she died, has helped me be more intentional about this connection. I’m developing new relationships with them and relying on their wisdom more and more.

I’ve also been praying the rosary—an unexpected return to my Catholic school days, but updated for my current shamanic, witchy self.

You can read more about that here: Rosary practice on my current path

On my shamanic path (including academics and writing)

My shamanic path has continued to unfold in its own winding way this year. Getting to know the landscape here, and doing deeper thinking about the way shamanism shows up in the Bible—and in Christianity more broadly—has been working its way through my soul.

I’m still working on getting all my thoughts down and ready for you to read and think about.

This led to an academic conference paper I gave this year:

“The Shamanic Bones of the Bible: Reading the Enslaved Girl in Acts 16 as a Shamanic Figure.”

It was, thankfully, well received by those who heard it. I’ll write a short synopsis of it later on.

What’s next (and how to stay connected)

I’m not quite ready to restart groups and workshops—and time will tell whether that’s in my future at all.

I am still taking on individual clients, though, so if you’d like to explore healing sessions, please do reach out.

And I won’t leave you alone for the holiday season: soon I’ll be sharing a list of books I’ve read (and recommend) that you might enjoy if you’re looking to nurture your own spiritual journey.

With love,

Katy