Growing up in social-justice activist circles, I was quite young when I first heard adults talking about someone becoming burned out. I absorbed it as a description for when activists push themselves so hard, without time for rest, that they give up activism altogether for a while, if not for the rest of their lives. In the environment of nonprofits and movement campaigns in Washington, DC, where long hours were often expected, it was understandable that some were like candles burning so brightly that they exceeded their fuel and their flame sputtered out.
A few months ago a friend invited me to join her to hear Emily Nagoski speak. In the discussion, Nagoski mentioned the book she co-authored with her sister Amelia several years ago, Burnout: The Secret to Unlocking the Stress Cycle. In particular, she mentioned a worksheet to help make one’s schedule feel less overwhelming, which is a challenge for me.
Once I got the book, I was surprised by the definition of burnout: emotional exhaustion from caring for others a great deal for a long time, diminished ability to offer compassion and empathy, and persistent struggle to feel that your work is having any effect on the problems you’re addressing. This described precisely how I felt from August until sometime recently. As I read, I could see that this was the weight I had carried for half a year, but at some point I had set it down. It was one of those moments that are the best of what a social psychology term or diagnosis can offer: a feeling of not being alone or hopelessly broken, but rather that others are going through similar struggles.
I didn’t recognize I was burned out because I thought of that as causing one to stop and withdraw from the work they are doing. I had kept going in multiple areas of activism and community leadership even while feeling exhausted. What helped me move through feelings of failure and burnout was a growing acceptance of what I cannot control. Each of our capacity to change an outcome is limited. Even our collective ability through building bonds of solidarity and joining justice movements is no guarantee that we will win. This doesn’t mean we don’t try. Feelings of futility are a warning sign for burnout.
I built on the insights about burnout, from the book and my experience with it, by starting Saving Time: Discovering a Life Beyond the Clock, by Jenny Odell. The alternate subtitle is Discovering a Life Beyond Productivity Culture. I doubt it’s an accident that both of these books have pink covers. I suspect it’s not only because both are authored by women but because of what Burnout calls Human Giver Syndrome, which affects everyone raised as a girl to varying degrees. Building on Kate Manne’s excellent book Down Girl: The Logic of Misogyny, Human Giver Syndrome is the idea that women have a moral obligation to generously care for the needs of others while looking attractive and staying calm while doing so.
And Odell writes, “I doubt burnout has ever solely been about not having enough hours in the day.” So much of the plentiful advice out there on time management is focused on quantity and not quality. It operates within a mindset of life as “work and refreshment-for-more-work,” she writes.
The phrase “quality time” suggests time when we are not working, and especially time enjoyed with friends and family. It doesn’t necessarily have to include doing anything. Quality time is the opposite of productivity.
Last week, I enjoyed quality time with several of my favorite people before, during, and after the total solar eclipse. One headline reported that the eclipse “Cost America Almost $700 Million in Lost Productivity. It then specified that it was “U.S. employers” who would lose “at least $694M in missing output while workers gaze” at the sky. Employers lost money, but we gained quality time. It was high-quality not only because it was likely a once-in-a-lifetime experience. It was the opportunity to slow down and pay attention. Not only for the three minutes and 15 seconds of total eclipse where we gathered in Berne, Indiana, but for an hour beforehand we watched the sky and the color of the plants change around us. It could not be rushed, and it produced nothing but memories.
Book event
I’m having a book event in Minneapolis! If you are inclined, please share this announcement with anyone you know in the Twin Cities area who might be interested:
Shared Spaces, Shared Leadership
May 2, 7–8 p.m. in Plymouth Congregational Church’s chapel, Minneapolis
Join author the Rev. Celeste Kennel-Shank for a conversation about how we live out our social justice commitments in our congregational and building relationships, and in our neighborhoods. Kennel-Shank, past president of the Associated Church Press, will draw from her recently published book What You Sow Is a Bare Seed: A Countercultural Christian Community during Five Decades of Change, as well as her experience in urban congregations and as a journalist. Copies of the book will be available on a sliding scale of $15–$25.
Reading and listening
Since there was a lot of grief mixed with my months of burnout, I appreciate Kathryn Schulz’s book Lost & Found: Reflections on Grief, Gratitude, and Happiness.
This Hilton Als essay (April 8 in the New Yorker) on a new book about trans actress Candy Darling and his own experiences as a gay man was poignant and beautiful. Candy Darling is the subject of the first verse of “Walk on the Wild Side,” by Lou Reed, on the fantastic album Transformer.
She was also the inspiration for “Candy Says” by Lou Reed and the Velvet Underground. Anohni, a trans singer who collaborated with Reed, covered the song. This video includes the heartbreaking and hopeful lyrics in captioning and rendered in Anohni’s inimitable voice.