I listen to a lot of podcasts, and stumbled on this one the other day, which I found fitting for this time of year. In it, podcast host Tim Ferriss and Jerry Colonna (CEO of Reboot.io) spend a good amount of time talking about a two-month sabbatical Jerry takes every year, and more broadly about the value of rest and what good rest looks like for them. I personally find the idea simultaneously attractive and challenging, which isn’t in itself a revelation: I’ve found ways to work through every break I have ever taken. The three major breaks I have had in my adult life bear evidence of this: I wrote freelance, applied for jobs, prepared for teaching, helped organise two international workshops and carried on supervising students. I even sometimes attended meetings (which, as I write this, makes me want to shake myself for my silliness). So I am simultaneously envious of Jerry’s freedom in setting up a business that enables this period of rest and nervous about the boundaries I would have to place to achieve something similar. After all, academia never seems to let up; there are always deadlines and feedback needed and fires to put out, and one’s “devotion” is proven by an almost monastic attention to the work.
But even as I write this, I have to wonder why this is. On some level, it’s absurd, written out in black and white. I hear a part of me saying no one dies if I don’t show up. And it’s true. No one dies if I don’t publish another word.
Not showing up is in conflict with my values, though. If I say I will do something I want to do my best to do it, to keep my word, and to do it well, because that’s a value, too. Ultimately I’m poor at figuring out how long a good job takes (and saying no, a constant struggle).
And here I am talking myself out of taking time for myself.
Even writing “taking time for myself” feels selfish, but I have to ask myself why. Is it really that selfish to want some time to take care of my body, mind, and heart in a way that I don’t normally make a point of doing? What am I missing out on that might help me when work returns to its usual deluge? That might make me a better parent, colleague, and friend? What might happen if I put myself first for a little while?
I think I’ll try an experiment this summer. When the kids are in care, I’ll still do some work (because deadlines), but I’ll change the priority order. Rest, exercise, eat well, meditate, and THEN work on the things that seem most valuable to me. Not to others.
Perhaps by writing this intention here, I’ll stick to it. One can only hope, right? I’ll let you know how it goes.
Feature photo by Matteo Badini on Pexels.
we’ve been taught that being “selfish” is wrong, but is it ? i think as much as absolute selfishness is bad, absolute altruism is as well.
i think you’ve partially hit the mark, realizing that taking care of yourself is still taking care of others in improving how you can be valuable to them. but even more than that, why are you less worthy of the care that you currently put forth for everyone but yourself? why do we even call any self care as selfish?
and you better believe your job has no problem saying no to you.
but think of it as changing the no to maybe. push back on deadlines and consider it managing expectations: if you finish early, people will be happy; if you finish late or kill yourself to make it, no one is happy. put a coming time off in the signature of your email and start your out of office message half a day early so people are aware.
i’m sure you’ve heard the proverb about your job not caring about you. i think i kind of felt like it isn’t always true, and i’ve been lucky to find “family” at work. but at the moment, i’m only wishing i had listened – not that i had cared less about my job, because i’m really proud of everything i’ve accomplished, and all the improvements i’ve made in other people’s lives because of it; but i do wish i had balanced my own health and needs a bit better.
I agree — there’s a balance to strike. And a negotiation to be had. There’s also truth in that proverb, based on my own experience changing jobs. It takes effort to keep in touch, and unless someone you work with truly becomes part of your life, they’re unlikely to stay in your life much once you leave a workplace. Being proud of what you do and being personally satisfied with the choices you make is important. So what does looking after your own health and needs look like, and how can you set expectations in the next job that will help you do that AND do the kind of work that you can be proud of? I actually think it’s easier to think about these things before starting a new job, because you have an opportunity to influence what people expect from you from the start.
Absolutely agreed!
Though maybe the root of what you were getting at originally is that sometimes it feels like it’s easier to manage other people’s expectations than your own – which I also struggle with.
Interestingly, my new job doesn’t believe in overtime. If I work late, I get comp time. They really believe in the 40 hour week. They also don’t promote based on merit, but on seniority. So there is absolutely no reason to kill myself for my job. I think it’s what I need right now: an external force to push me to take care of myself instead of my work. Yet somehow, part of me is feeling like I’m going to fall behind because of it. How is doing what society has generally deemed a normal work week considered falling behind?!
My current theory is that our culture values paid production. Society shames the unemployed, and doesn’t take into account volunteered time to worthy causes – and any noises that suggest otherwise are never backed up by action: stay at home parent? Unemployable. Non profit worker? Great, we can pay them less, because they are used to low income. Hell, even the metric by which I’m measuring is based on monetary compensation.
But instead of calling it for what it is, we are pushed to focus on the idea that a good work ethic is what makes you a good person. And a good work ethic means pushing yourself to produce more for your company, even if it is at what seems at the time to be a very slight expense of your own well being. Because, after all, you are young and strong and you will recover easily. Until you aren’t and you won’t! But by then it’s a strong habit, hard to break.
While I logically don’t agree with any of it, and definitely don’t view others in this light, I find myself feeling like this in relation to my own work. If I get paid less for my work, I’m less worthy. If I’m not producing absolutely as much as I’m capable of, I’m less worthy. My brain tells me it’s not true, but emotion doesn’t give a damn about logic.
We’ve all been socialised to think this way, right? I actually wonder if — in the long term — we’ll actually produce more (or better) work with fewer hours and a more balanced life. I wonder what we’re missing out on in the question to get yet another thing done. Do we really know how much we’re capable of *if we don’t work all the time*? There are pretty clear benefits to down time and sleep. Speaking of which… I should probably listen to my own advice here. 🙂