A hand went up in the back of the room.

Every seat was taken by a high school student, with a few teachers scattered around.

I was there alongside my friend Blake, leading a conversation about music, poetry, and walking with Jesus.

We had been asked a handful of questions about writing, finding inspiration, and how to find the courage to release our work into the world.

But this question was different.

It wasn’t one we expected.

And maybe that’s what made it such a good question.

“How do you handle burnout?” asked the young man in the back row.

Blake responded first, reminding the student how we were created for rest and how it is required if we want to move forward. Blake spoke openly about how he’s wrestled with burnout, learned how we cannot do it all on our own and that we need to lean on others as we navigate life. He said something along the lines of when we keep on working without rest, we are way less productive.

The students nodded their heads in agreement.

As Blake finished he asked the student if what he had said was helpful.

The young man shrugged his shoulders and kindly said, “Not really.”

It’s a brave thing to raise your hand and ask a personal question while surrounded by a room full of people. I can count on one finger the number of times I have asked a personal question in front of my classmates. It was 7th grade. I had just grown my 3rd armpit hair and was feeling bold. I asked a teacher how I could make it to the NBA. As soon as the words left my mouth I heard snickering bounce off the walls around me. I felt my face turn red and my body grow warm.

My serious question was only heard as a joke.

It’s a frustrating thing to be misunderstood.

It’s a hard thing when you don’t have the language to express how you’re feeling.

I didn’t want the young man to feel the way I felt.

I didn’t want him to think that he wasn’t making sense or that he was the only one who felt the way he felt.

I didn’t want him to shy away from asking his questions in the future.

So, I asked a follow-up question.

“Are you tired?”

He shrugged his shoulders and bounced his head the way you bounce your head when the answer is yes and no.

“Do you feel like you can’t catch up?”

He gave the same answer once again.

We weren’t getting any closer.

We were getting further away.

You could feel his frustration from across the room.

“Is there another way you can ask your question?” I asked.

“Not really. You know what? Nevermind. It’s okay. Really.” He said graciously, trying to get the attention off himself, but it was too late. 

One of his classmates swiveled in her chair and asked him if he was depressed. 

Before he could respond I told him how we would love to chat more after we were finished.

He nodded his head and gave a half-smile, happy to have the attention off him.

We answered a few more questions and then the bell rang.

Every student gathered their belongings and rushed out the door for the next thing.

The young man was gone before we could call him over.

It’s been a few days and I cannot stop thinking about what he meant by burnout.

I cannot stop replaying the conversation, thinking I could have said something different.

I cannot stop wondering if anything we offered was helpful or a hindrance.

I hope he gets his answer.

And I hope he continues to ask his questions. 

About the Author

Tanner Olson is an author, poet, speaker, and podcaster living in Nashville, Tennessee.

He is the author of I’m All Over the Place, As You Go, Walk A Little Slower, and Continue: Poems and Prayers of Hope.

You can find Tanner Olson’s books on Amazon.

His podcast is The Walk A Little Slower Podcast with Tanner Olson and can be found wherever you listen to podcasts.

Tanner Olson travels around the country sharing poetry, telling stories, and delivering messages of hope.

You can follow Tanner Olson on Instagram (@writtentospeak) and Facebook where you’ll daily find encouraging words of faith and hope.