The Balancing Act: Prioritisation, Rest, and Recovery.

Part 3

Although I'm regularly beaten up by the forest, Calmness shows signs of arrival. Today, I imagine her enveloping wings and parental kindness as she points toward a clearing in the trees. A streak of golden sunshine illuminates a spot against a large, ragged boulder. For a moment, I feel like the woods have scooped me up and tucked me into a soft warm bed. I take this as a sign: rest is important and necessary.??

By the end of this month, I will have been live with KW Collective Ltd for nearly eight weeks. It feels like both an eternity and a split second. Happily, though, I'm starting to feel a little more peaceful. Perhaps this is because some of the conversations I'm having look set to translate into meaningful work, or maybe I'm just feeling calmer about my unexpected journey because it's here, it's now, and I'm in it.

If I were to break down the time that I'm spending on things at the moment, it looks a little bit like this:?

• 65% Productivity (great meetings, emails, writing, ideation, studying, research)?
• 20% Panic & Fear (Happily, that's starting to fade, but there's still a fair bit of time spent overthinking)
• 10% Recovery (letting go of what's gone before - more complicated than it seems)
• 5% Rest (EEK!)

There's something about that 5% that is making me uneasy. I've had historical issues with burnout, or certainly getting to the point where burnout seems inevitable. Usually, it's because I've ignored my body's signals and just tried to power through in the hopes it'll all get better. We all know how that goes, though, don't we? Powering through rarely leads to success.

Although I'm much better at managing things nowadays, I find it hard to rest. I'm one those of people who feel guilty for resting. Catch 22. I feel guilty if I rest, so I tend not to. And if I do let myself, I spend the time feeling guilty for doing it. Because shouldn't I be hustling continuously to make this change happen? Shouldn't I be banging on every door loudly and constantly? Shouldn't I have changed by now? Luckily, just as I was sending myself to despair with those questions, I read a brilliant article by Sarah Parsonage , who is much better with questions than I am! She founded One Question - a think tank striving for genuine change in society and business through conversation. Her poignant words were a much-needed reminder:

"Change is incremental, it takes time, and sometimes it doesn't have to be loud or lofty."?

Then there's the dreaded P word. Prioritisation. I say dreaded because it's always been something that's followed me around in performance reviews. Namely, the need to do it better. Although, show me a marketer who doesn't have this in their reviews. My current challenge is balancing the multiple ideas I'm having (which is excellent, this is the first time I have felt this creative in a long time) and figuring out which ones to focus on.

The last couple of weeks have seen my heart and gut lean towards the new ideas, but my head says: Lizzy, you gotta stay focused on the here and now. Work with what you've got versus what you want.?

But, like any new behavior, I have to think about it like building a habit. Carving out time to write precisely what I want to do and what makes the most sense to tackle first seems a no-brainer way to start, but I don't find it as effective as it should be. I am more of a fan of sharing my thoughts with a close peer who encourages me to talk through the rationale. Vocalising it allows me to determine if it's an idea even worth a spot on the list. My peer then relays it back to me without my guilt, panic, fear, and all the other self-doubt we tend to experience when times are uncertain. It's only then that I write it down. And I'm now using Notion, thanks to my friend James Frewin . If I still can't prioritise between that and my peer mentor, I'm a lost cause, doomed to spend eternity drowning in unfinished ideas and emotions.?

The recovery item on my list may also need more attention. While I see recovery as part of rest, I treat it as its own thing. Each person has a unique recovery journey, and it's all dependent on the workplace experiences they've had before.?

One of my earliest jobs saw me working for a boss who believed she was Miranda Priestly. I needed to be available to her 24/7. She had me doing bizarre things, for example, picking hairs off her clothes, getting on my knees to remove her boots, and, my personal favorite, having me phone the National Lotto every week to find out why she hadn't won yet.

"I've been playing for years, Liz. Odds say I should have won by now. Find out what's going on".?

More seriously, I was constantly humiliated and verbally abused in front of my colleagues. Strangely, she refused to call me by my name...because Elizabeth was far too long to shout. I was very much an Elizabeth in my early 20s, FYI, but there I was, Liz. These examples only scratch the surface, and I'm still a little afraid to talk about the depth of it. The funny thing is, I can't really tell you why I put up with it. Perhaps the constant "you're lucky to have this job" jibes, my pride, or naivety about better working environments kept me there. One of the only things that got me through it was the belief that I could write about it one day.?

Eventually, I cracked. Once it was over, it took me years, and I mean years, to recover. I'd wake up in the middle of the night sweating, having dreamt I was late to get her coffee. I'd see her in the crowd wherever I went. My heart would race, and nausea would attack whenever I heard the Blackberry messenger tone. In my next job, my new boss barred me from the office between 12 pm and 1 pm because I hadn't taken a lunch break for my first month there. He insisted on the importance of a break. With empathy, kindness, and humor Paps (Umair) Shaikh supported me as I transitioned back into a healthier working environment. I'll always be grateful to him for that.

Trauma from a recent job showed up with me last week, which hurt. A lot. It reminded me that I must slow down a bit and process what's been and gone if I truly want to move forward. Throwing myself into other things is effective to a point, a distraction, perhaps, but I know in my heart that I still need to come to terms with why I feel how I feel.?

My point is that the trauma you experience at the workplace can follow you for years. It can show up when you least expect it, impacting how you behave and process work for life. I'm learning that giving yourself time to recover is essential, and it is a step that mustn't be overlooked, even if you're multitasking with it. But, you know what? All these experiences have spurred me to find a way to create better working experiences for people because I know many others like me are members of the work-related-trauma club. These are the people I want to help. The great news is that I have my idea! But, more on that in the future.?

For now, I will focus on my freelance marketing and training workshops, the beauty of rest without feeling bad about it, the slowness of change, and the need to process what's come and gone. And I am doing so by taking a leaf out of Jackee Holder 's journaling tips designed to help your body slow down, shared in her recent Psychologies Magazine column. She suggests writing Haikus in your journal to keep you grounded and in tune. So here I go:?My mind is a brook / babbling fast ideas and thoughts / the past lingers too.

Until next time friends,

Lizzy