Episode 1: Helping is great, but...

In which our protagonist has her first Big, Difficult Conversation

First, the elephant in the room: yes, I thought long and hard about whether I should post this today. I actually meant to post it yesterday but, as I watched the events unfold in Washington, it just didn’t feel like the right time to bang on about being selfish and looking after No 1. At some level, that’s the attitude that led to the scenes we’re seeing. 

But then I reconsidered. The selfishness agenda I’m pursuing is not one of hatred, of anger, of fear. It’s an agenda of love - specifically, love and care of self. Of acknowledging that I will be no use to anyone else unless I look after myself, unless I treat myself with more kindness and ensure I get the essential inputs so that I can output love, courage and selflessness. If anything, I told myself, journeys like mine are important to hear about right now, so we can all understand there is still hope, there is still light at the end of the tunnel. And so here I am, in your inbox. 

Hello.

It must be remarked that, just a few weeks ago, I wouldn’t have typed the preceding lines because I’d have been scared I sounded grandiose, full of myself, arrogant. That last one: that’s the problem. That’s what led me to this position; I never wanted to sound arrogant. I could never abide by arrogance. I have no idea what made me so afraid of such overconfidence, such surety, but so it is. And so it goes, baby steps into the light, paying attention to the world and trying to meet its challenges with love and not more fear, more anger. 

Thank you for being here with me as I take these steps. Which brings us to this week’s missive...

The First Big, Difficult Conversation

I’ve said many times that one of the things that led to my mental and physical breakdown last year (last year already?!) was my constant people-pleasing. My need to feel needed - no, my need to feel necessary, indispensable. If I’m needed, then they can’t ever tell me to bugger off, right? 

This, dear reader, is well-documented as the route to burnout, and burnout is a well-known companion in my life. After years and years of banging my head against a brick wall, taking a little rest, and then starting on the wall again, I finally broke through. I broke through, and I found a reinforced steel structure that went as high as the eye could see, was unimaginably thick, and sunk deeper into the ground than you’d think possible. It was the wall that said you shall not pass. The wall that said, for heaven’s sake McMenemy, get a grip on yourself or you’re going nowhere. 

The wall demands action, but it doesn’t really care if that action is good or bad for you. It just says - to add yet another metaphor like a terrible writer - “sh*t or get off the pot”. This here newsletter is, erm, my sh*tting? (That went places I never intended; scratch it from the record, please.) You, dear reader, are holding me accountable. I must report to you, and I cannot tell you that I couldn’t be bothered, or I just didn’t think it was the right time. There is no right time. There is only time to put first that which your body demands.

And there was never going to be a right time to have the first of the Big, Difficult Conversations that I needed to have as I embark on this journey. Never a right time, but there was probably, arguably, a right way to have it.

Reader, I did not have it in that place. Not at all. If I could go back in time… oh dear, here we go again with the ruminating. I won’t go there. Suffice to say, I needed to step down from a voluntary position that was a total time and energy vampire, and instead of being a grown-up and doing this the “right way”, I did it via email. I did this for very good reasons, I tell myself. My ego says they would’ve begged and pleaded for me to reconsider, told me I was indispensable, that they couldn’t do it without me, and I didn’t think I had the courage or strength to say the resounding and necessary NO to any of that.

The reality? They’re getting on with it. They’re sad to see me go, but they understand my reasons for leaving. 

Of course, I went overboard with overcompensation. I made sure I handed over all work in progress efficiently. I set up online project boards to show the processes used and the roles and responsibilities I had been holding down to ensure nothing was missed. Whether they go ahead with the things I set in motion, only time will tell. I have to remember that it’s not my fault nor my problem nor my purview anymore. 

I was accused by someone recently of “punishing myself with work”, and the accuser is correct: work is my safe space, my comfort zone. I don’t know what I am, who I am, if I’m not working. If I feel like I have a to-do list a mile long and my heart is pounding with deadline stress, then life is in the right place. As it’s meant to be. 

But it’s not.

Even now, I am worried about the decision and the Big, Difficult Conversation that I didn’t handle well. Did I do the right thing? Why did I do it that way? I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. Surely I could’ve kept it up? Surely it wasn’t that bad? Surely I’m more essential than that?

Reader, none of us is indispensable. While no one will do things quite like you do, the things will get done. Meanwhile, you can be spending that time and energy on things that help you, that focus on your own needs, that are designed to get you through these strange and weary times in which we find ourselves. 

The world is a mess. We don’t have to be. 

Be unafraid to be self(ish) when it’s needed.  

Until next time: Look after yourself, dear reader. 

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Visual confirmation

My roots are many, varied, muddy, covered-over. Yet they combine to make a strong, wise trunk that grows ever taller, reaching for the stars.

Image and text taken from my Instagram, marking travels around Nonsuch Park on 4 January, 2021.