Bringing balance to the new year
Centering rest, joy, and love
“I had to examine, in my dreams as well as in my immune-function tests, the devastating effects of overextension. Overextending myself is not stretching myself. I had to accept how difficult it is to monitor the difference. Necessary for me as cutting down on sugar. Crucial. Physically. Psychically. Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.”
- Audre Lorde from A Burst of Light and Other Essays
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about balance. About how to balance my work for others and work with/for community with my need for rest. 2024 was a year of immense exhaustion. As a PhD student, I finished the last of my classes, began writing my dissertation proposal, presented at two conferences, and co-authored four academic papers. As a labor organizer, I was frequently organizing or in bargaining committee meetings with the university for 10-20 hours a week. It was also a year of immense grief, marked by abrupt trips home for the funerals of my uncle and great aunt. Immense grief from the ongoing genocide in Palestine. Immense grief from the re-election of a fascist (and wondering if my emotional reaction might have been any different if the democrats – who have funded the ongoing genocide – were elected instead?).
This fall, when I was particularly exhausted by life, a group of friends wrote me a card, I suppose to cheer me up or help me remember my worth or something. One friend wrote: “I find you stand unique in my mind as someone who spends every waking minute working so hard for everyone else.” Of course, I was flattered when I read this. As he later wrote via text, “there is enormous strength in choosing to consistently show up.” At the same time, as I was in this moment of exhaustion, I thought: But what do I do for myself? How can I more intentionally balance my energy and commitments?
This fall was not my first experience with profound exhaustion. In 2022, I became completely burnt out. I was working full time, co-managing a mutual aid fund that I co-founded (which involved weekly meetings, fundraising, social media work, collaborating with local non-profits and other mutual aid funds – not to mention emotional exhaustion), was volunteering for the ACLU as a court watcher, signed up for a multi-article writing gig, and was making final plans to start a PhD in the fall, not to mention family commitments and trying to have a social life. Though I cared deeply for everything I was doing – and the people I was doing them with – I became so exhausted that I knew I needed to step down from something. I wasn’t able to give my all to projects that I deeply cared about and deserved deeper attention and commitment. So I edited and re-edited apology emails, deciding that I needed to step down from the mutual aid fund and my writing gig. I was so nervous to send the emails. When I expressed this fear to a friend she responded simply – “If they’re mad at you over this, they aren’t good people you want to work with anyway.” Even though it was incredibly nerve-wracking, taking a step back – and ensuring I was rested and physically mentally healthy – was what was best both for me and those I was working with.
Rest is not something we need to earn. Rest is not something we need to do simply to be more productive later – more productive in school, work, organizing, as a supportive friend, sister, daughter. As Tricia Hersey of the Nap Ministry writes: “Rest pushes back and disrupts a system that views human bodies as a tool for production and labor. It is a counter narrative. We know that we are not machines. We are divine.”
Going into 2025, how can I work to not feel guilty when I step back from things or ask for help (which I'm very bad at, and usually prioritize the needs of others over myself — even if it negatively impacts me)? How can I work to set boundaries for my time to prevent getting burnt out in the first place?
In the last few years, I have been trying to figure out the many, many ways to build the world I want to live in. Often when I think, “what am I doing to make the world a better place?” I start to list the way I serve others — essentially, my resume. I have organized for a lot of important issues, which I am very proud of. I’m proud that the research I do centers community-accountability and engagement. I’m proud of my writing. But it’s also exhausting. And if (when) my capacity for the work I do now changes, I don’t want to feel guilty that I am not doing enough. I want to live out my values and challenge power structures and build strong, trusting communities in my everyday interactions. I want to live out my values on a personal level.
For 2025, I’m going to work towards those goals by:
Expressing gratitude in a genuine manner
Complimenting other people's work
Saying “I love you” to my friends and loved ones more often
Practicing vulnerability – when I need to step back, when I need to rest
Being self aware and working to regulate my feelings and not lash out at people just because I’m tired, hungry, or stressed
Learning more about the ways systems of oppression shows up in my own thinking/perspectives of the world (for the last couple of years I’ve been thinking/learning about anti-fat bias and ageism, in particular)
Setting boundaries for my time
Cherishing and continuing to cultivate community with shared politics and values
As I continue organizing, researching, writing, and co-conspiring, I want to also continue to center joy, rest, and love for myself and my communities.
I conclude and welcome the new year with another favorite quote from Audre Lorde:
“I want to live the rest of my life, however long or short, with as much sweetness as I can decently manage, loving all the people I love, and doing as much as I can of the work I still have to do. I am going to write fire until it comes out of my ears, my eyes, my noseholes–everywhere. Until it’s every breath I breathe. I’m going to go out like a fucking meteor!”
