Recharging (…) (…) (…)
Honestly, I totally underestimated how mentally exhausted I was at the end of last year. A year full of design projects I can be really proud of, but also a pace I’d say was concerning. A full-on, forward push with all hands on deck to keep the momentum going, to get shit done, day in, day out. And there’s a cost to that pace.
The projects were fulfilling and the people involved were great. Thus, I can find it hard to say “NO” when that type of work comes in the door. It also seemed like a better use of mental energy to focus on making and creating and building rather than dwelling on the sorry state of affairs for much of American politics. And I love what I do, so the logic can go, “why not just do more and more of it?” Taken altogether, here I am. Mentally exhausted.
Maybe this is natural wear and tear, the kind of strain that comes with the design business. Maybe this is my body telling me I need better boundaries. Better balance. Or maybe this is burnout.
It’s not unheard of to say creative work is challenging. It’s not unusual to say that client meetings can be stressful. It’s not out of the norm to say running a business takes a lot of extra time and energy. But that’s not what this is about. This is about finding no spark whatsoever when a potential project is proposed. This is about not really having anything to say about client requests. This is about, rather than taking the time to respond back to email requests, forgetting about them entirely. I’m tired of pushing and pushing and pushing. That’s what this is about.
The design industry prides itself on being overworked. And I totally bought into it. For 15 years. This year I’m no longer willing to buy into it. Full stop. Doing so feels like a firm stance in defense of my humanity. Rather than taking on the attributes of a machine — efficient, productive, automated.
In the last few months I’ve found myself saying I just need to recharge. The battery needs to get above 50% for a good amount of time. The power has been draining and it needs to be filled back up. As if I were a robot. But I’m not a robot, I’m a human. With inefficiencies, forgetfulness, and randomness. Full of flawed thinking and irrational behavior. (Shocker to the free-market economists out there.)
Because of that, the robots are coming for my job, probably. But if that proves to be true, that means my job has become something I no longer want, probably. The job I want has randomness, daydreaming, failures, mishaps, and completely out-of-nowhere epiphanies.
A job where every day is different and every problem unique. And when I find myself needing to adjust to counter a particular issue, burnout in this case, I can proceed accordingly. Without any need for a timeline, report, or evaluation to tell me when the issue has been dealt with. Instead, I’ll just take it as it comes and see how it goes.
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