Faster pace, faster burnout
Before I decided to become a librarian, I spent a few years living in a remote area of Northern California. The tiny economy in this coastal redwood town necessitated that I employ myself through a combination of part-time jobs, one of which was working in the restaurant of a small, family-owned inn. Like any tourist destination, there were rhythms to the work there—slow seasons and busy seasons.
During the heightened summertime season, I bonded with one of my co-workers over the feeling we got when the restaurant was at peak capacity—I thrive at the moment right before I’m totally overwhelmed, we’d say to one another. We knew it wasn’t the healthiest attitude, but there was sharpness to the fast-paced rhythm that, on good nights, could feel almost like a flow state. The steady clip of orders and food running and calling through the kitchen pass, all while maintaining a cool headed image to patrons, created a chaotic kind of euphoria.
Now, in my first proper fall semester as a liaison librarian at a mid-sized R1 University, I find the same statement—I thrive at the moment right before I’m totally overwhelmed, running through my mind, but with less self-assuredness. Since the fall semester started, I taught or assisted with 14 library instruction sessions, held over 40 research consultations with students and faculty members, attended two conferences, agreed to co-author two scoping reviews, and assisted with the planning and running of two major events that occurred over the last two weeks on campus.
I know that this sort of variety and high capacity for service to our patrons is par for the course as a liaison librarian. I know that my schedule likely looks similar (if not less intense in comparison) to some of my colleagues. I also know finding my footing in this job means building the capacity to find calm, stillness, and rest amidst the torrent of emails, meetings, events, webinars, spontaneous reference calls, and professional development opportunities.
Slowing down as vital
Perhaps prophetically, two weeks into my current and first position as an academic librarian, ACRL’s “Keeping up with…” series published a feature on Slow Librarianship. Reading through the constellation of librarians publishing on the subject, I learned about the Slow Food Movement’s adaptation towards slowness in the library, both in our interactions with our patrons, and in our approaches to education. I also learned about the difficulty many librarians face in separating work from the rest of their lived experience outside of work, and most saliently, how slowness can radically challenge the Capitalist, technocratic, productivity culture we find ourselves in, in favor of a relational and critically reflexive approach to being and doing at work.
As a student in higher ed, I remember bemoaning the fast-paced rhythm of this time of year. November and the first few weeks of December are the final push before winter break. The deadlines for presentations, exams, and term papers start to loom heavily. At the same time, our environment is slowing down. The days grow shorter as we drift towards the winter solstice, our trees grow bare, our animals prepare to hibernate. The rhythmic signs are pointing towards slowness…and yet, the semester churns on, the papers are due, the exam dates are set, the stress in ourselves and in our students grow.
No, the rhythms of stress and rest don’t move with the seasons. More often, the peaks and troughs of stress seem to move on a day-to-day, or even hour-to-hour, cycle. For me, banking the moments of rest amidst these cycles, in the same way I see squirrels outside my window banking acorns for the winter right now, feels like a vital strategy.
Taking breaks to avoid breakdowns
What my friends at the restaurant and I talked about less were the days when being right on the precipice of being overwhelmed spilled into full-fledged, panicked submersion. We didn’t talk about the days when an order was missed, or a dish had to be refired, or a glass was dropped, or a customer snapped at us. We didn’t talk about the days when all you could do was keep your head up, run into the walk-in refrigerator to cry for a quick five, and wait for the night to be over.
Working in a restaurant is much more dissimilar than it is comparable to working as a liaison librarian in an academic library. However, both are service positions (which unfortunately, in the obsessively hierarchical structure of academia can leave you vulnerable to being taken for granted), and both involve juggling multiple tasks at once, collaborating with team members, and maintaining a certain air of ease even if you aren’t feeling your best.
I love most aspects of my job, and most of all, I love interacting with people and helping them with their research. I have a sticky note on my computer monitor that reads, “Build the capacity to be a place where others find rest.” But, to build that capacity, I have to be a place where I can find rest, first. Sometimes that looks like a full night’s sleep (when I’m lucky), sometimes that means noticing the little things that fill me up throughout the day, and sometimes that means taking a break even when I don’t feel like I have the time to. Now more than ever, I know that if I want to avoid any breakdown in the walk-in refrigerator moment, building that capacity to find rest is a must.