Twice in a row, my friend, Sarah, cancelled going to an in-person conference with me. It wasn’t like her. Not only did she hate missing conferences, but during the lockdown, all she’d talked about was how much she missed human interaction. Sarah was the last person I would have expected to turn down an in-person opportunity to socialize, even if it was work-related.
So what was up with Sarah?
Had so much isolation made her social anxiety worse? No, but it had for my friend, Tom.
Was she suffering from Long COVID? No. that's my friend, Molly.
Had she spent the past two years writing her thesis while homeschooling her three children and her brain was near shut-down mode? No. That was me.
“What’s up, then?” I asked her.
“I'm emotionally exhausted,” she replied. “so I’m allowing myself to do absolutely nothing these days beyond things that bring me joy.”
My friend's response irked me. Sarah? Emotionally exhausted? For all intents and purposes, Sarah had been one of the “lucky” ones during the pandemic. She’d successfully defended her thesis, gotten engaged and been offered a faculty position. She even got a puppy! How much more joy can one person handle? I found myself thinking, Does Sarah even have a right to be emotionally exhausted?
I knew the answer was yes; of course, Sarah had the right to feel emotionally exhausted. Even if she hadn’t worked her butt off to finish her thesis, she deserved to be emotionally exhausted. Even if she hadn’t been separated from her family, lost travel opportunities, income, etc., she had the right to feel emotionally exhausted. I knew that because I knew that even the “Lucky Sarahs” of the world are not immune to the emotional exhaustion that stems from spending two years in a state of stress, uncertainty, isolation, and fear. In fact, I'd recently read that the “Lucky Sarahs” of the world -- the ones who managed to maintain intense levels of work engagement and productivity during the pandemic -- are particularly susceptible to what is being called COVID Fatigue/ Burnout.
So why, if I knew all this, did her response still irk me?
Let’s rewind, shall we?
Just weeks before the pandemic hit, I did my IDP. What stood out most after doing the Skills Matrix exercise was that several of the skills I scored high in ability and importance for my academic career simultaneously put me at risk of burnout. Additionally, several skills that I scored low in ability intersected with my well-being needs. All that to say, completing the IDP helped me identify what I needed to prioritize at the time. As a result, I set several goals for myself, including writing one chapter of my thesis per month and attending more conferences (academic), and carving out more time for things that bring me joy (well-being). More specifically, I decided to knit my mother a sweater for Christmas because, well, knitting brings me joy.
What happened? Despite caring for my children while navigating an incredibly stressful world pandemic, for the most part, I met my academic goals. Like Sarah, I was “lucky” that way.
What else happened? Like millions of folks worldwide, I shelved my well-being goals in order to be “productive.” Those balls of yarn I’d bought for my mother's Christmas sweater... they sat neatly, collecting dust, exactly where I’d stacked them on my bookshelf two years ago.
What else happened? I’d become emotionally exhausted. Burnt out. Toast. Unlike the balls of yarn, my desk was as messy and chaotic as I felt.
I admit it. Guilty as charged. When I did my IDP two years ago, the process of identifying my well-being needs and goals felt less important than my academic ones. The relevance to just how connected the two spheres are clearly didn’t register. Especially once the pandemic hit and I had more than ever on my plate. Knitting plus homeschooling children plus writing thesis plus staying alive? Something had to give. And it was a no-brainer. My mother got a Winners gift card that year; the balls of yarn were literally shelved.
Let’s fast-forward two years, shall we?
At the time of my conversation with Sarah, my children were back in school. Most of the restrictions were lifted. I had big green check marks next to my academic goals. So, why, oh why, were those balls of yarn still collecting dust on my shelf? Why did I invite Sarah to a conference that I didn’t have the emotional energy to attend either?
It doesn’t take rocket science to determine what irked me about Sarah’s response. Sarah got (and understood!) the memo before I did. No, it isn’t necessary to push ourselves beyond our capacity anymore. At least not to the same degree. At least not today. She’d figured out that if she didn’t recognize the stress she’d experienced during the pandemic, that if she didn’t allow herself to recharge by focusing on things that brought her joy, that she’d be of no use to anyone -- least of all herself -- in the future. She just wouldn’t have the emotional energy.
But catching up on the memo was the easy part. The hard part, at least for me, was acting on it. Thankfully, however, a few shelves down from those balls of yarn was my IDP. It, too, had been collecting dust. I told myself, “Self, if the IDP was useful in helping you achieve your academic goals, chances are it will do the same for your well-being ones. You just have to believe this time around that not only are your academic and well-being spheres equally important but, at this point in your life, if only for a little while, your well-being ones are more important.” In other words, thanks to revisiting my IDP (and taking a page out of “Lucky Sarah’s” book!), my mother will be getting her Christmas sweater this year. To boot, I created another well-being goal: develop more self-compassion. My bet is it’ll be my most challenging yet important goal to date.
How ‘bout you?
For more information on COVID Burn out/ Fatigue:
http://www.camh.ca/en/health-info/mental-health-and-covid-19
https://www.healthline.com/health/mental-health/covid-fatigue