Author's note: Hello hello! I'm not sure how many folks read the Psych Notes section, but I'm adding in a little subsection called Differential Diagnosis to talk about why the other disorders could be ruled out, rather than just present you with a laundry list of symptoms. If you're not keen on it, do let me know, otherwise I think I'll just leave it as is.

thegreysnark: Oh dude thanks so much! Your comment made my day. I love making people laugh more than anything, so I'm really happy I could do that! :D

"So tell me what's on your mind," I said.

"You already see the problem," Galadriel replied, looking at me curiously.

"I have my own perspective," I gently countered. "I want to hear what you think is the issue."

I waited as she sat a moment, seeming to comb through her thoughts for relevant information.

"I… am tired," she finally said.

I nodded. "In the sense that you are having physically worn out, or is it more a mental fatigue?"

"Both."

"Are you having difficulty sleeping?"

She nodded a little. "I find it hard to fall asleep."

"How often would you say that you have a bad night's sleep?"

"Most nights, these days," she admitted. Upon seeing my interested face, she added, "it has been going on for some years now, but to start with, it was only one night on occasion, and has since grown to what it is now."

"I see," I said. "Did something suddenly set this off—an incident that gave you a bad shock, perhaps?"

"No," she answered as she shook her head. "It has been very gradual. It seems to be worsening alongside the evil that grows in the east."

"The loss of sleep is not what troubles me, though," she continued.

"Oh?"

"I have started to lose interest in my duties as the Lady of Lothlórien. Matters concerning the realm do not seem to capture my mind as they used to. I reflexively make the right decisions, but my heart is cold throughout."

Stress is a strange beast. Studies abound extolling the virtues of a minor case of nerves when taking a test or playing a game. A moderate, or even severe amount in the short term can be a normal response to an upsetting event, and can send all of one's feelings into overdrive. When it gets to an extreme level however, be it in dose or length, it can have the curious effect of numbing us completely. A buildup of stress over a period of many years, imaginably, is a recipe for disaster. I had an inkling of what the problem could be, but there was a lot to rule out first.

"How are you doing in other aspects of your life?" I asked. "Social, personal, that sort of thing."

Galadriel sighed. "Well enough, I suppose. I still enjoy playing the harp and meeting with others, but I feel guilty for indulging in such things when I can scarcely take an interest in my work, which I know is suffering."

"Tell me a bit about how your work is suffering."

"You saw it for yourself," said Galadriel irritably. "Celeborn did most of the talking for me today. This has been happening ever-increasingly of late. I cannot concentrate, and I seem to have no solutions to problems like I usually do, so I cannot lead like I should."

The annoyance in her voice started to grow. "Now, all my energy is spent simply maintaining the usual protections of Lothlórien, never mind whatever we might need now that this Necromancer has invaded Dol Guldur! There is hardly any point in even continuing to hide the place at this rate!"

I nodded and stayed quiet in case she had any more to add. She seemed to be on a roll now. But instead, she closed her eyes in frustration.

"Forgive me, Rhodri, my temper is a little harder to keep under control than usual," she said in a reluctant but genuine tone.

"I don't take it personally. You can shout if you like, it's perfectly fine," I said with a smile. "Tell me, do you find yourself feeling sad very often these days with the advent of this lack of interest in the job?"

Galadriel shook her head. "Not especially. My work is draining, but I am not saddened by it- merely exhausted. I fantasise a little of fleeing Lothlórien and starting afresh in somewhere like Mithlond or Edhellond and find myself getting frustrated about having to continue my duties here when I cannot-" she paused and clapped a hand over her mouth, looking shocked that she had said such a thing.

"It is important to be honest with yourself, Galadriel," I reminded her reassuringly. "You will not reach a solution if you pretend the problem doesn't exist. And just because you don't feel like doing what's expected of you doesn't mean that you're actually shirking your duties."

Galadriel chewed her lip as she considered my words.

"What about feeling fearful or nervous?" I continued. "Are your worries at the forefront of your mind all the time?"

"I… do not suppose so, no," mused Galadriel.

"I worry at times that I am not properly caring for the realm, but it is nothing I dwell on for too long because I simply force myself to work harder. For now, that seems to work well enough, but I do worry there will come a point that that will no longer be effective."

That ruled out a depressive episode and an anxiety disorder, both of which can often cause sleeping problems, irritability, concentration issues and impact how well one does one's job. But Galadriel was still able to enjoy herself when she was away from the job side of things, and worries weren't invading all of her working moments.

To me, this sounded like occupational burnout: the emotional exhaustion that comes with working too hard. The term is looked upon like a buzzword, but I had seen far too much of it to even entertain the idea that it didn't exist, even if it wasn't to be found in the DSM-5, psychology's equivalent of the Bible.

"You know, Galadriel," I said to her, "it sounds like your job as the overseer of Lothlórien is really starting to wear you down."

Galadriel's body tensed up and she looked up at me sharply, offence written all over her face.

"Hey, look," I said, holding up my hands in a peacekeeping gesture, "I didn't say you can't do it. It's a big job that would tire anyone out. I doubt any other Elf could single-handedly run the place nearly as well as you do. What I think is affecting you is something called burnout, and it can happen to anyone."

That seemed to placate her a little. Her shoulders relaxed a smidge, but she watched me like she was waiting for me to say "but."

"What I think might help," I went on, "is having a look at how you're handling this, because you and I both know that your workload is about to get enormous, especially as this evil to the east grows, as it no doubt will. Think of this as an efficiency session."

Galadriel nodded stiffly. I had heard stories of her earlier days, and apparently she was something of a vainglorious sort in her youth. Not that anyone could really blame her. She was an exceptionally talented person, famed for her bravery, intelligence, beauty and power. So far as I could see, she had every reason to be pleased with herself. Although it seemed her pride had tempered over the years, it was clear it had still far from disappeared.

"Now, let's have a talk about personal characteristics first so we know what we're working with. Tell me a little bit about what you expect of yourself as the Lady of Lorien."

"I expect to be able to keep my realm and people safe and free from the influence of Sauron and his allies," she said without stopping to think. I nodded.

"How much of that do you expect to do by your own labours? Surely the running of a realm is a group task."

"There is much that only I can do," Galadriel replied, softly raising one eyebrow as she fixed me with a mysterious smile.

"I am sure of that, but what I want to establish is whether or not you are taking on more work than you need to. Part of being a successful leader is having delegation down to a fine art."

Her eyebrow was now arched, and the indignation was back on her face, quick as ever. Even with the way I had phrased it, she assumed I was taking a jab at her ability to successfully keep her realm afloat. She had spent so long proving herself that she was anxious not to display any sign of weakness. And yet she had come to me to seek counsel. This had to be a sign that some small desire for change was there.

"Delegation is not a show of diminished ability, Galadriel," I said mildly. "It is simply another exercise of authority with efficiency in mind. People love their home here and will naturally be willing to accept extra responsibility during more urgent times. Have a think for a moment about your situation. How many advisors do you have?"

There was a small flash in Galadriel's eyes as she seemed to tighten the reins on her temper. After a moment, she said, "None presently."

I was shocked. "Do… do you mean you have been handling the workload of making huge decisions alone this entire time?"

Galadriel nodded, a small, triumphant smile curving up the sides of her mouth.

"Why would you do that to yourself?" The question was out before I could stop it, and I felt rather embarrassed at having departed from my usual, professional manner.

It had an interesting effect, though: Galadriel's smile faltered and she looked a little surprised, hurt even, that I had registered displeasure rather than admiration.

"Do to myself?" she repeated. "It is in my power to handle these things, so why would I not oversee them?"

"Just because you can, doesn't mean you should," I enunciated. "There are only so many hours in the day, Galadriel, and you are only one person— an exceptional person, to be sure," I added quickly, "but all the same, this is not a healthy approach to your work. You are not doing yourself or anyone in your realm any favours by only leaving these things to yourself. What do you do when you have to travel?"

"I make long-term plans and prepare for a variety of contingencies, and I use ósanwë when I need to speak with a particular person," she answered in a calm but stubborn tone.

I sighed. "Galadriel, I'm going to be very upfront with you here. Burnout is a serious issue, and unless you do something to fix it now, it will only get worse. Not just for you, but everyone. You will become exhausted, and you will not be able to protect yourself of others when they need you the most. I understand that you feel responsible for the wellbeing of your people, but the way you force yourself to work cannot go on in this manner. And that you came to me tonight shows that you know this."

Galadriel swallowed hard and looked down at her hands, trying to appear distracted as she wrung them so hard I worried she might de-glove herself. I pressed on.

"Right now, I would say that this is the perfect time to start making changes. People already know that something is wrong. Celeborn is suddenly doing all the talking and organising because he is aware that you are suffering. And you know," I said gently as I leaned a little closer to her, "Now is the perfect time to take action without losing face. Find three people you trust and tell them that with these troubling times ahead, you will be very busy handling new threats and will need someone to keep an eye on other things. No sensible person will accuse you of laziness or ineptitude for doing the right thing. And believe me, Galadriel, this is the right thing to do."

With what must have been a colossal effort, she tore her eyes away from her hands and looked up at me, and for once, her features were not shrouded in mysteriousness. Instead, she looked wounded and insecure, her eyes still faintly glittering with anger.

"Now, what about a support system?" I continued. "Whom do you speak with when your work becomes stressful?"

"Celeborn," she said quietly.

"Are you completely honest and open with him about how you feel?"

"Not… entirely."

"Well, that should change, too. He is your spouse, Galadriel. If you can't trust him with your feelings, you can't trust anyone. He cares about you, and I can see that he worries for you. I am sure that such a small thing as listening to you speak about your worries is something he would jump at the chance to do if it could make a difference. Don't bottle all this up."

Now a tiny blush reddened her cheeks. Elves were by nature a fairly private people, but Galadriel was particularly tight-lipped, especially when it came to Celeborn.

"And, of course, you can always talk to me. I'm available by ósanwë at any time," I added with a small smile.

Galadriel nodded once, not looking at me as her brows knitted.

"Tell me what you're thinking about," I prompted.

"I know where I must begin, but I hate to do it," she uttered reluctantly.

"Why do you hate to do it?"

"I feel… diminished," Galadriel whispered.

"Are the Valar any less diminished for having Maiar? Is Elrond less of a Lord for having Glorfindel, Erestor, and I as his counsellors?"

"No—no, of course not," she said quickly, shaking her head. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Why are you holding yourself to a higher standard than Ilúvatar holds the Valar, then?" I asked, looking at her solicitously. "They don't need any sleep at all, and they still have handfuls of advisors and helpers each. If you want an idea of what you should expect of yourself, think of what you would expect of Thranduil and Elrond. That's about how much you should do. Irrespective of how powerful you are, you deserve to be happy and enjoy a life outside of work."

She seemed mollified by that, and her face slowly lost its anger and pain as it slipped into its more usual serene countenance.

I nodded to myself. This seemed like a good start. With that, I took out a pen and paper and started writing down a list of instructions for her- 3 advisors, talk to trusted people, expect of self what you would expect of Thranduil/Elrond- set limits!

"Whose Maia are you, Rhodri?" she asked. Normally I wouldn't have let clients change the subject by asking about me, but the session was essentially over which meant I'd slide back into acquaintance/friend status again with immediate effect.

"Before I answer that," I said as I handed her the list, "Take this, put these into action over the next two weeks, and then we'll touch base again and see how you're going, all right?"

Galadriel took the list with a smile, read it and nodded. "Two weeks. Very well." She looked at me, awaiting my answer as the curiosity stirred her face out of its neutrality.

"From what I have heard, Tulkas was my Vala, but then Irmo wanted to teach me as well. It seems that the conflict that arose between them was irreconcilable, and so Manwë asked Ilúvatar to send me elsewhere until they could sort their squabbles out."

I paused a moment, then shrugged. "I cannot seem to recall any of my life in Valinor, however, so it is possible I am wrong, though I very much doubt it. My memories really only begin with my life in London."

"Curious," she murmured, running a finger over her lips contemplatively.

"Quite," I agreed. "Again, I do not want this information to reach Curumo, so please keep it between yourself and Celeborn for now."

The other reason I did not want word of my history getting out to him was because I in no way wanted him to know of my life in London. Though the vanishment, as I called it, had happened a long time ago, it quite rightly remained a sore spot, and I didn't want to give Curumo an inch of leverage over me.

I only had to give Galadriel, who already knew my backstory, one knowing glance, and she comprehended immediately. She nodded and touched her hand to her heart in a display of sincerity. I smiled appreciatively.

"Come," she said as she stood up. "They will be wondering what has become of us."

I wasn't sure if she was referring to the whole group, or if she was alluding to Curumo getting suspicious, or perhaps even making some humorous reference to the famed clinginess of newlyweds. Hell, at that point she could have been suggesting a great white shark was lurking downstairs waiting to eat me and I wouldn't have cared, because I knew food was waiting for me downstairs, and I had been battling monstrous bread cravings for days. I followed her out gladly.

I was not disappointed. Evidently, one or more of my travelling companions had either noticed and/or grown incredibly tired of my waxing lyrical about fresh bread en route to Lothlórien, because on the plate that had apparently been saved for me, there sat half a loaf of bread, still warm to the touch.

"Is that… all for me?" I asked nobody in particular, salivating like one of Pavlov's dogs in a bell factory as I breathed in the delicious, yeasty smell.

"Oh, yes," said Celeborn with a nod. "We have all eaten our fill, and Galadriel, as you see, has her own plate of food."

I clapped my hands in joy and took my seat beside Glorfindel. Bread and Glorfindel. Magnificent. I cut myself a slice and bread and Rhodri were united at last.

"Are you well, Rhodri?" asked Curumo from down the table in a would-be benign voice. I swallowed my mouthful, willing myself not to beat this bastard to death for interrupting this splendid gastronomic moment with his ill-intentioned obsequiousness.

"Mighty fine, thanks," I replied in a mock-cheery tone, forcing a smile as I held up my half-eaten treasure. "Got bread."

"You were gone an awfully long time," Curumo pressed. "I worried for your wellbeing." This remark got him a look or two from the others at the table, but he seemed not to notice. I sighed inwardly; this had to be the most pathetic attempt at nosiness I had ever encountered. Naturally, I had to make up something to protect Galadriel's confidentiality, and I didn't want to mention the Bib-and-Brace Club in case he started bugging me to let him join. I decided it was best to give an awkward answer and embarrass him.

"Yes, well, apparently there's no short answer when explaining where babies come from, but I very much appreciate that the Lady Galadriel took the time to sit down with me and answer my questions," I returned with compelled off-handedness. "Here was I thinking they just came down with the rain. But now I know, and I tell you what, women get a pretty bad deal out of this," I shook my head, eyes wide as though I had just seen something that could never be un-seen.

Glorfindel snorted loudly, Elrond closed his eyes in horror, and the rest of the table bit their lips, suppressing the urge to laugh as Curumo glared at me and turned scarlet, evidently much less pleased with my answer than I was.

"And there was no better time to ask than now?" he sneered. Man, he really wasn't letting go of this. The others watching this unfold like it was a tennis game, eyes darting from one person to the other and back again as the ridiculousness went on.

"I'm over 2700 years old," I said in a rather blasé tone. "I suppose there comes a point where allowing that level of ignorance to persist becomes almost criminal. Look, honestly, I'm still in shock over the whole thing, so I'd rather not dwell on it, if it's all the same to you."

That brought the conversation to an abrupt halt, after which I got to destroy my bread in peace while Elrond, bless his poor, mortified heart, steered the topic back to trade deals with Gondor. By the time I had demolished my entire half loaf, everyone else was ready to retire for the evening.

"What was going on back there?" Glorfindel asked with a chuckle when we were alone in our own sleeping chamber.

"Oh, Galadriel figured out I'm a Maia," I replied, omitting any mention of our psychological session that had preceded it. "She was intensely curious about it, and I thought it best to fill her in, especially since Celeborn was rather suspicious of me this evening. Seemed best not to let Curumo in on that little snippet, though."

He nodded. "Yes, I did notice that. He put you in a rather difficult place, what with your concerns about Curumo."

I raised my eyebrows in agreement. "Barely got out by the skin of my teeth there. I'll be glad when Curumo takes himself elsewhere, that's for certain."

Glorfindel smirked. "I think Elrond will be, too, after tonight's table talk."

We both erupted into a quiet but intense belly laugh.

"I hope my ridiculous lie didn't cause you any offence, by the way," I said when I got my breath back.

"Not at all," he said with a smile. "I found it extremely amusing."
"I wonder, though," he said, biting his lip a little, "if you wouldn't mind recapping with me. You know, just to be absolutely certain I know what to do when we want children of our own." His eyes sparkled as his smile grew into a devilish grin.

"That sounds like an excellent plan," I said in as clinical a tone as I could muster while hurriedly taking off my clothes. "I think it will take a lot of intense practice, but at some point we should be proficient enough…"

Psych Notes (cw: contains in-depth description of depressive symptoms, including su*cide)

Occupational burnout

Occupational burnout does not feature in the DSM-5. It is, however, listed in the International Classification of Diseases (ICD-10), which is a global standard list of health and medical problems. There is a lot of squabbling about what sort of disorder it is (and indeed whether it is a 'real' disorder), what its symptoms are, and how to go about diagnosing and treating it. The person who originally coined the term, one Herbert J. Freudenberger, stipulated three main criteria:
- Exhaustion (physical and emotional, which manifests in such ways as apathy, irritation, physical fatigue, poor sleep, poor temper control, and poor concentration)
- Cynicism: in this case, cynicism refers to general dissatisfaction with one's job, identifying with it less, taking less of an interest in it, feeling disengaged
- Reduced professional ability: job performance drops because you are less able to carry out your tasks as well as you did before (usually because of the first two points)

Differential diagnoses

Some argue that burnout is a form of depression. Others say it's its own thing. Others still reckon it more closely imitates PTSD because of how the brain reacts. And of course, I'm going to get my money's worth from my psych degree by chipping in my own opinion: I think it's probably in its own category for now, but it could fit in as a part of a disorder called adjustment disorder (essentially a temporary form of major depression) if it were allowed to grow very severe.

In Galadriel's case, what Rhodri wanted to rule out were major depression and anxiety because of these symptoms which can occur in both disorders as well as burnout: poor concentration, irritability, apathy/numbness, feeling stressed, poor sleep, tiredness, and doing worse at work.

In depression, these symptoms are compounded by what singles depression out: very low mood most or all of the time, OR a loss of interest in things that are usually enjoyable. Galadriel admitted to being a little sad from time to time when she realised she couldn't just chuck it and go live at the beach, but given her workload, being sad a fantasy can't come true is perfectly reasonable. Rhodri was then able to exclude the loss of interest criteria because Galadriel said she still enjoyed playing the harp and socialising- when she could find the time for it.
To describe the hallmark features of depression, we can look at happiness and sadness as existing on a scale of -100 (suicidally unhappy) to +100 (dangerously, recklessly happy). A clinically average range would probably sit at around sadness low of -40 (e.g. dropping lunch on the floor), high of +50 (e.g. payrise!), and neutral of around +10, maybe +15 (sitting on the bus). In major depression for the same events, these averages would be more around a sadness low of -85 (lower if more severe), high of 10, and neutral of about -10, maybe -15 or lower if more severe.

As for anxiety, Galadriel is nowhere near the right level of fearfulness for that. She is not overwhelmed with worries, for example, that Sauron is going to invade out of nowhere, take over the realm, and make a lampshade out of Celeborn's skin. She feels a sense of foreboding now and then (fair, when there is at least a small risk that Sauron will invade, take over, and do the lampshade deed), but she is able to control it and shift it out of the forefront of her mind when she wants to, which is something that people with anxiety disorders cannot do.
If we examined anxiety and relaxation on the same scale as the depression one, we could set -100 as comatose and +100 as nonstop screaming. A clinically average range might have a relaxed level of -55 (after work changing into comfy pants) and an anxious high of around +45 (running late for work), with an average of 0 to +10 (walking to the shops).
The anxiety patient will have averages more like these for those events: relaxed: -10, anxious: +85 (perhaps higher), average: +25 to +40

If you feel any of these things describe you and you are able, please speak with your doctor. If you are having difficulty accessing services, please do not hesitate to reach out to me and I will try to help you find available online or government subsidised services in your country. You are important, and life does not have to be this way.