As women, we are taught to put the needs of others first.
To clarify- as a little girl, I don’t remember my mom sitting me down and saying “Now, Haley, because you are female, you need to put the needs of others first”. But, life itself is a social institution, so I was innately taught that women usually have the role of taking care of others.
I didn’t realize that I was starting to tie my identity into whichever role that I had. A college graduate. A social scientist. A jet-setter. A case manager to foster children. A high-needs behavior coach. A care coordinator to dialysis patients (the title even says “care” in it!). While I was putting so much time and energy into those roles- all which involve putting the needs of others before my own, I was starting to negotiate my own time to which I owed myself. I felt my cup getting lighter and lighter, reassuring myself that I had just enough ‘fight’ left in myself to keep going.
It all started when I got back from a giant work conference where I was in Colorado for 3 days. I had packed the wrong amount of my anti-depressants, and traveling gives me an insane amount of anxiety. Even though I spent most of my free time crying on the phone to my husband, I had a great experience and I felt really good about myself. I was at my employer’s headquarters, and they valued me so much that they flew me to Denver so I could learn more about the company. I could not wait to come back and share my experience with my team.
Then, as most of you know, four hours after I got home and fell asleep, two of the pipes burst in the kitchen and living room. I never got to really share my experience, or my story about the weird Uber driver who took a nap in my guest parking spot.
I guess the universe has weird ways of reminding you to slow it down.
The last three jobs that I’ve had, there’s been a trend around the one-year mark. Burnout. I took a course on Compassion Fatigue and the way that fatigue was measured was through four phases- the first called the Zealot Phase, where a person is so passionate and excited that they take on the extra work because they genuinely care. Sounds cool, until all of that extra time is slowly being drained from your metaphorical cup.
I became tired. I’m tired of always being burned out. I’m tired of always being depressed. I’m tired of coming home feeling mentally and physically exhausted. I’m so tired that I stopped doing yoga. I’m so tired that I let my garden die. I’m so tired that I was still eating fast food on my way home from work, even though we have groceries and a brand new kitchen. I’m so tired that I didn’t want to put effort into my relationship. I was the 10, my husband was the 90.
I was invited to go hiking with one of my friend/coworker, and while we were walking we were talking about our lives, our changing priorities, and how stressed out we were on the job. She said something along the lines of “I should just work at Trader Joes. My friend does and she gets paid well and gets good benefits!”, but all of the sudden a lightbulb went off.
The next day, I came home from work in a bad mood. My husband and I started bickering, and he asked me “Do you even like your job?”, to which I immediately defended with a convincing “Yes!”, where he responded “Because I don’t!”. What the FUCK? I’m very prideful when it comes to my education and work, so these were fighting words for me. All of the sudden, while I was defending why my job was so great, I started saying something along the lines of “Well you don’t have to force a smile and fake happy” when he stopped me and asked “Are you even listening to yourself?”
Don’t get me wrong- I really did love my job. Of course, every job has it’s downsides, but in this point of my life it was not serving me well. I had a patient whose husband’s health was declining and she was sacrificing her own health to take care of him. I remember telling her, “You can’t pour from an empty cup”. I would also tell this to the foster parents that I worked with, and all the women who I love. Except for myself. If I couldn’t model it, how could they?
So that leaves me to now. I’m still learning and re-learning the things that fill my cup, and teaching myself that there’s no shame in keeping it full.
Keep growing.
-Haley
Reference:
Richards, C. (2013, June 9). Compassion Fatigue Scale. Retrieved from https://www.charlenerichardrsw.com/2013/06/compassion-fatigue-2/
Everyday Haley 