As I wove in and out of a high fever with Covid in recent weeks, I worked. At first, it was only on time-sensitive and critical items. Unfortunately, that boundary didn’t hold. I found myself answering questions and replying to emails that could have waited. And as my body collapsed, resentment crept in.
I was forced to pause and introspect as Covid took its toll, layering stress onto massive fatigue. When the boundary of “time-sensitive and critical” was no longer being respected, I had a choice. I could have made myself completely unavailable. Instead, I kept working. Somewhere in the midst of the chaos, I lost myself.
I was forced to pause and introspect as Covid took its toll, layering stress onto massive fatigue. When the boundary of “time-sensitive and critical” was no longer being respected, I had a choice. I could have made myself completely unavailable. Instead, I kept working. Somewhere in the midst of the chaos, I lost myself.
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| Photo by Javardh on Unsplash |
I work with intention, mindfulness, and passion. I advocate for clear boundaries between personal and professional spaces. Each workday, I assemble and dismantle my laptop, monitor, keyboard, and mouse at home. My calendar is kept current. My Teams status is usually accurate. While Teams lives on my iPhone, notifications are turned off. They are only switched on when I’m troubleshooting and need to be reachable during office hours.
I believe deeply in taking mental wellness days to pause and recover. Time away helps us return with perspective and renewed energy. I’m not afraid to say no. And yet, somewhere in the last few months, I lost that discipline while managing and attempting to tame an untamed beast of many years’ making within an organization I work for.
There were wins this past year. But those wins came at a personal cost. Somewhere on the battlefield, I must have dropped myself without noticing. It took a near total collapse from Covid to see clearly that I was no longer myself.
We talk often about slowing down, pausing, and self-care. But how many of us truly practice what we say? When was the last time you paused to reconcile the weight of your daily life? Are you hustling, or are you living?
If you are hustling, you are not living. I’ve never understood why companies frame hustling as a virtue, as though urgency itself were a marker of value. Webster’s Dictionary defines hustling as crowding or pushing roughly, conveying forcibly or hurriedly, urging forward precipitately. None of that sounds like a healthy way to work or live. Hustle leaves little room for judgment, rest, or care. Life, and work, cannot be content or sustainable when lived in constant acceleration. Feeling anxious? Ask yourself whether you are hustling from one thing to the next, mistaking motion for meaning.
I’ve slowed down so I can find the misplaced version of myself somewhere on that battlefield. Once found, some mending will be required. Perhaps a pause long enough to heal, so the wound doesn’t reopen.
Regular introspection, the act of course-correcting and leveling-set with ourselves, is essential. In recent weeks, I’ve returned to asking hard questions. Are expectations placed on me by others, or by myself? Once I draw boundaries, do I honor them? Am I comfortable with my own limitations? Do I accept the limitations of others? Am I as mindful of my own needs as I am of everyone else’s?
It is only natural to misplace things, people, and even ourselves. What I am learning is that it is perfectly fine to lose ourselves, as long as we are willing to look for what was misplaced, to mend what was damaged, and to heal, again and again.
I believe deeply in taking mental wellness days to pause and recover. Time away helps us return with perspective and renewed energy. I’m not afraid to say no. And yet, somewhere in the last few months, I lost that discipline while managing and attempting to tame an untamed beast of many years’ making within an organization I work for.
There were wins this past year. But those wins came at a personal cost. Somewhere on the battlefield, I must have dropped myself without noticing. It took a near total collapse from Covid to see clearly that I was no longer myself.
We talk often about slowing down, pausing, and self-care. But how many of us truly practice what we say? When was the last time you paused to reconcile the weight of your daily life? Are you hustling, or are you living?
If you are hustling, you are not living. I’ve never understood why companies frame hustling as a virtue, as though urgency itself were a marker of value. Webster’s Dictionary defines hustling as crowding or pushing roughly, conveying forcibly or hurriedly, urging forward precipitately. None of that sounds like a healthy way to work or live. Hustle leaves little room for judgment, rest, or care. Life, and work, cannot be content or sustainable when lived in constant acceleration. Feeling anxious? Ask yourself whether you are hustling from one thing to the next, mistaking motion for meaning.
I’ve slowed down so I can find the misplaced version of myself somewhere on that battlefield. Once found, some mending will be required. Perhaps a pause long enough to heal, so the wound doesn’t reopen.
Regular introspection, the act of course-correcting and leveling-set with ourselves, is essential. In recent weeks, I’ve returned to asking hard questions. Are expectations placed on me by others, or by myself? Once I draw boundaries, do I honor them? Am I comfortable with my own limitations? Do I accept the limitations of others? Am I as mindful of my own needs as I am of everyone else’s?
It is only natural to misplace things, people, and even ourselves. What I am learning is that it is perfectly fine to lose ourselves, as long as we are willing to look for what was misplaced, to mend what was damaged, and to heal, again and again.
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