Part 2 – How

We as a society are incredibly reluctant to take time off, viewing time for ourselves as indulgent and proof of expendability. The truth is, however, that time for ourselves, whether an extended vacation or 10 minutes of daily quiet time, is critical to avoid burnout. I recently took two weeks off from work (my first vacation since starting 18 months ago) for a road trip with my husband.
Did it feel indulgent? Yes.
Was it necessary, for both me and my organization? Yes.

The Case for Vacation

I know from my time in grad school that vacations are important not only for the employees but for the company…

  • When someone who has a unique responsibility (and we all do on our team) is away, it’s easier for the rest of the team to see where the knowledge and process gaps are – those gaps can be addressed once that person is back.
  • It’s a best practice to cross-train team members on different programs so that all of the information doesn’t reside in one person’s head, and so that others feel comfortable stepping in to help if the leader of that program is away.
  • I want to make sure that my team members feel empowered to make decisions without having to get my blessing on everything. I set the vision on where we’re headed as an organization, but they know their own jobs better than I do (and I usually support their recommendations anyway).
  • It’s also very important for me to show that it’s OK to truly be off and unavailable. I can tell my team that I want them to enjoy their vacations, but if I’m replying to emails while away, they will too.

And that’s how I justified being incommunicado for two weeks.

Enjoying the Fountain Geyser and the surrounding unearthly terrain in Yellowstone.

Christian and I had planned to visit friends we hadn’t seen in years “once the pandemic was over,” which we optimistically thought would be this summer, after a vaccine was widely available. That is another can of worms entirely, but with non-refundable flights and rental car, we decided to go anyway and be careful on our journeys. With scenes from “Contagion” playing on repeat through my mind,[1] we always followed CDC guidance (sometimes being even more cautious), and everyone we visited (with the exception of one two-year-old) was vaccinated.

Over 14 days, we drove through seven states, flew in and/or out of five airports, and caught up with friends and their families in five different cities. We did some sightseeing, including in two national parks, and supported 13 local breweries on our route. I even got Christian to listen to Dune while we were driving, in anticipation of the new movie coming out this fall.[2],[3] Although we did squeeze a lot in, I was struck by what a different trip this was from “normal.”

I usually head into a vacation with a spreadsheet-based calendar of activities, scheduled down to the hour (or to the minute when Japanese trains are involved), complete with an accompanying packet of receipts for hotel stays and event tickets, weather forecasts in each location, important phone numbers and addresses, and copies of identification and travel documents. Whether because I did not have the time or energy for that level of planning or because I was tired of jam-packed schedules at work, this was not that kind of trip.

After a long walk from the Ferry Building to the Presidio in San Francisco.

The Effects of Legitimate Rest

We only set an alarm on the last day of the trip (in order to catch a 9am flight), and we told each of our hosts that our primary reason for visiting was to see them, not to be entertained or to be whisked around to all of the tourist spots. (Though, I must say that I have zero regrets about driving down to the Idaho Potato Museum.) We had slow, quiet mornings catching up with friends over coffee before deciding what to do that day. I even had enough energy and time that I sat and read an actual book, start to finish. (And it was a great book, too: Axiom’s End.[4]) Seriously, though, I do not remember the last time I read a physical book – usually it’s only audiobooks while I garden or commute. It did feel a little weird to leave downtown San Diego in the middle of the afternoon to go back to the house, crash on the couch, and read, but it also felt so nice to acknowledge that we were tired and wouldn’t enjoy a forced march through more tourist attractions.

I was shocked at how easy it was to let work concerns fall out of my head during those two weeks. Occasionally an amusing work-related anecdote would come to mind, and I would share it with Christian. I sent a postcard to my office from Yellowstone, and I kept an eye out for souvenirs for team members, but that was about it. I didn’t mull over decisions that would have to be made when I got back or worry about how things were progressing in my absence. I had packed my work cell phone in case I needed it, but it was off the whole time. Only two people from the office had instructions to contact me on my personal cell in case of emergencies, and I heard nothing. The only time I texted anyone was to ask for restaurant recommendations in Salt Lake City from someone who used to live in the area.

As we approached the end of the trip, I will admit to a feeling of resignation at the idea of returning home. As much as I love my job, it will always be more fun to tour breweries and eat at roadside Mexican restaurants in California. I expected that feeling to increase on our last flight as we got closer to home, but, strangely, the opposite happened. As soon as we were within 30 minutes of Pittsburgh, we were close enough to the ground that I could see a network of fracking wells and related infrastructure. I felt pulled toward home so strongly it was almost a physical sensation. I knew my work was there waiting for me, and that I was still being called to defend our environment and the people in it by supporting responsible decisions around resource use.

Our plane made a wide bank past the airport and over the city. I’ve rarely been on a return flight that lands from the east, so I became genuinely excited as I recognized landmarks and neighborhoods. When downtown came into view, I felt a thrill of excitement to be home, beaming at Christian and snapping as many pictures as I could.

Beers by the bay on our last day in San Diego.

Interdependency

When thinking about what to write for the blog when I got home, I was reminded of a Brené Brown podcast episode on burnout [5] that I referenced in a post last fall.[6] I revisited that episode a few weeks before we left for vacation, and one quote really stuck with me:

“The cure for burnout isn’t – and can’t be – self care. It has to be all of us caring for each other. What we realized is that self care is the fallout shelter you build in your basement because apparently it’s your job to protect yourself from nuclear war. So we talk about sleep, we talk about stress, get physical activity… Well, that’s not going to work if you live in a household where you’re the only person who prioritizes your wellbeing. It requires everybody in the household agreeing that your eight hours of sleep is a priority, and we are going to cordon off that time and space and protect it so that you can have that time. Self care requires a bubble of protection of other people who value your wellbeing at least as highly as you do.”

And what struck me was not the realization that I have an incredible team – I knew that already, both at work and at home. I know that I have people who can pick up my slack while I’m away, just as I would (and will) do for them. What shocked me to realize was just how restorative it can be to lean on them, to let them know what I need, and to trust them to do it. The level of support I got from my team when preparing to leave was unreal – particularly how genuinely happy they seemed that I was taking time for myself.

Coming to that realization reinforced how important it continues to be that I schedule and respect truly unstructured, guilt-free down time for myself. Not down time that is filled with a hobby that has goals and results, but time to rest and recharge so I don’t get to the point of risking burnout if I don’t take a two-week vacation. That will continue to be a goal of mine moving forward, but I know I will really be working toward it more earnestly now.

An unexpected and beautiful welcome home.

What do you do to make time for yourself, and how do you hold yourself accountable? Please share your tips in the comments!
Thanks for reading!


[1] https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1598778/

[2] https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/44767458-dune

[3] https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1160419/

[4] https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/51171377-axiom-s-end

[5] https://brenebrown.com/podcast/brene-with-emily-and-amelia-nagoski-on-burnout-and-how-to-complete-the-stress-cycle/

[6] https://radicalmoderate.online/dont-fear-the-reaper-processing-tragedy-through-art/


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