During our “spring break,” I wrote up the results of a group discussion topic, did a budget revision, prepped two case studies for discussion, and finished up scripts for 3 presentations (2 short presentations + a short subtopic) for another group project. (I recorded the presentations the following week so that our “production” person could stitch all of our efforts together to make a ~45-minute group presentation.) I also finished our taxes and got my hair cut. It was a very productive week; it was *not* a spring break.
And I did a bunch of it while camping out at my local branch library. It’s a recent thing for me… not every day, but it’s happening more and more. If you had told me even five years ago that the library would supplant a coffee shop as my go-to spot for getting work done, I would have laughed at you. But the pandemic broke me of my coffee shop obsession; I learned to make good coffee at home, and the library is usually a more pleasant alternative than most of my local coffee shops — it’s quieter, less chaotic, more spacious, and more comfortable.
The branch I have been visiting most frequently has robust programming for young children and their adults, so it’s usually not quiet (I’m not sure the recent renovation included much sound mitigation), but it’s lively. I settle at a table away from the joie de vivre, put in my ear buds and listen to some music or a podcast, pull out my laptop (or notebook and a pen), and get to work.
Some other highlights of a recent visit:
Anyone with a uterus can relate to the first; I can think of a few times when I would have benefited greatly from having access to free menstrual products, and I would have been profoundly grateful for them. The yarn and fabric exchange is just a great idea. I think I have some fabric (and probably yarn) I can donate…
These, of course, have nothing to do with traditional libraries, but they’re really, really cool, and indicative of this library’s desire to serve its community in nontraditional ways. The class I’m starting to finish up this semester required some thought about how libraries are evolving to become more than repositories for books, and I see some of the initiatives I have been learning about in Spokane’s South Hill Library.
I am here for it.
[This is a branch library that serves one of Spokane’s older, fairly wealthy, neighborhoods. Spokane had a Carnegie library (that now houses an architecture firm), and the original Spokane City Library was on the land now occupied by the Central Library. The South Hill branch is one of five neighborhood branches. Spokane Public Library also supports two book kiosks, and a maker space.]
All families have baggage. Each family’s circumstances are unique; even with shared DNA, each individual brings their own experiences, and perceptions of those experiences, into the mix. My family’s baggage centers around repression, judgement, and shame. It evolved over generations, and like a lot of generational trauma, it had its roots in cultural and religious biases, and abuse. We looked like a reasonably functional group to outsiders, and we loved each other as best we could.
But it was hard.
And it made holidays hard. I’m sure I’m not alone in this. Most of our families do not conform to marketing schemes, or religious ideals, or expectations surrounding food. We want to, and we try, and the trying is exhausting, and frustrating, and fraught.
And we cling to whatever traditions we have created, as tightly as possible. And that is exhausting. It makes these occasions, that are supposed to be about family, and food, and tradition, practically unbearable: occasions that are to be endured rather than enjoyed.
My experience with the particulars of my family shifted dramatically after I got married and we started splitting holidays. That had its own challenges, but I got to see how another family — one with different expectations for holiday get togethers — managed the situation.
And then, after my grandparents died, almost a decade ago, the experience of our big holidays changed considerably. It took my immediate family a few years to figure out what works for us: fewer expectations, more outdoor walks (weather permitting), watching football games, still lots of food (but simpler and easier to prepare).
There are as many ways to celebrate a holiday as there are people who celebrate it. I feel like there’s really no way to know this until you’re nearly grown, but it’s incumbent on each of us to decide what holidays we’re going to observe, how, and with whom.
Family traditions can be great, unless they’re not. Go all in with them, or engage with them as you can.
Maybe sleep in and have a lazy breakfast (if there are no small children to celebrate with), or get up early to run and play a pick-up game of basketball. Spend some time with family (the one you’re born into or the one you choose)… or don’t. Cook a big meal, if that’s your jam, or get takeout. (And don’t sleep on Chinese food for Christmas dinner.)
Or, if you need to, ditch the occasion altogether.
I feel like an outsider looking in when it comes to holidays (I don’t like that feeling), in part because for me, holidays have always been about fitting into someone else’s expectations. After basically ignoring last Christmas and Easter (forgotten? blocked it out?), I would like to be more intentional about holiday celebrations, because I like the idea of the winter holidays, at least. I want to spend Thanksgiving with my mom and brother (like we usually do). For Christmas this year, I’d like to send some cards, and have a tree, and maybe plan a tasty, but simple, celebratory meal with friends and/or family. Maybe celebrate with a few meals with friends as they have time. (We used to travel at Christmas, but after a few Covid years, and experiences with the airlines at the holidays, I am, as they say, over it.)
How do I reset my expectations for holiday celebrations and not impose my expectations on others? That will be part of my process, I think… What will the holidays look like? I don’t know. We’ll see. I’m shooting for eating well, drinking enough water, getting enough sleep, and figuring out how to find comfort and joy in holiday celebrations.
I did not realize that today was Easter until… last Thursday. The Thursday before Good Friday. Somehow the ubiquitous Easter Bunnies did not break through.
Oy.
But hey, I put pepper in my oatmeal this morning, so it’s safe to say that I’m generally turned around at the moment.
The primary reason: I’m knee-deep in a management course.
It’s one of six courses that everyone in this program (SJSU MLIS) has to take, and one of four we have to complete in the first third of the program. This one has been a challenge, because if you’ve ever met me, you’ll know that I’m both deeply distrustful of the idea of management as a discipline, and disinterested in engaging with it on any level (to put it mildly). I’m not opposed to capitalism as an economic system, though without guardrails it seems to become more about getting as much as you can before things go sideways than about investing for long-term (more modest) gain and stability. Management, as I’ve experienced it as an employee, is less about creating anything than it is about cutting costs and exploiting employees. The managers I’ve worked with who actually have MBAs… smart, smart people, with less interest in learning from observation than applying theory they studied in school.
Also, not a fan of group work. I think the people in my groups are great, and I have have deeply appreciated their feedback, but it is a lot of meetings, and between my two groups (for this one class) it means having to coordinate the schedules of eight people. If we worked in the same organization at the same time, it might be easier, but we’re students in a program designed for working adults, so…
Sorry Easter (and oatmeal), you’ll have to pardon my distraction, as I work through subjects like strategic planning, trendwatching, and budgeting. Planning — necessarily imperfect, but good! Responding to trends — unavoidable at the macro level, unsustainable at the micro level, particularly for orgs that aren’t “agile.” Budgeting… sigh. (Look, I actually think accounting exercises are kind of fun, like puzzles, but budgeting for staff cuts is awful on a few levels.)
And then there’s the investor pitch deck (first of two major projects). I enjoy research — the research part of this semester-long assignment has been a blast. Library lighting, and food-and-drink policy (my pieces of the puzzle for this group project) are actually interesting topics, when you delve into them — they both involve some engineering, sociology, and architecture (and trends!)… that’s all good. Spokane Central Library finished a $33-million renovation a couple of years ago, so I even have some recent, local, ideas to draw from. This week I’m finishing the scripts for my presentations, and next week, I’ll be recording my portions (x3: lighting, food and drink, space planning), to hand off to our group’s editors so we can finish this project a week earlier than the due date (or have time to deal with last-minute crises).
The last major project, which isn’t even on my radar until mid-April, is a research paper. I’ll get to it when the two papers that are due next week, and the presentation, are done.
Other shenanigans, at the Outdoor Learning Center:
Taking in a temporary, emergency placement Western Screech Owl (his person had some fire damage to her facilities, so we’re taking care of him until those are resolved). I got to learn to use pocket holes to prep his enclosure!
Replacing platforms that were starting to become unusable.
Working with first graders for the first time this year! (First time for me, not the OLC — I usually work with grades 3 – 5 in the spring.)
And one more, not at the OLC: dragging out the mini-chainsaw/tree pruner to take down limbs from a neighbor’s tree that are overhanging our roof. I’ll be using the rope chainsaw next week for the taller ones!
I like most people. I’m not shy. I have anxiety, but when it comes to being around people, it’s more likely to be triggered by having to get to wherever I’m supposed to go than it is by the event itself.
And yet, as the most introverted person I know, I strongly prefer to work on my own. Collaborating is great, but when it comes to producing I’d rather work it out on my own. That’s not a knock on anyone I’ve ever worked with; it’s a personal preference.
I’m taking a (required) class right now that’s about 2/3 group work. My colleagues are all super smart, observant, and engaged, and I’m learning a lot from their perspectives. For one of the projects, each conversation we have deepens my understanding of the project in important ways. So it’s going pretty well, so far. I’m lucky to get to work with these folks. I have no complaints.
I still hate group work. It’s a lot of meetings. When you’re working with two different groups of people, you’re having to figure out a lot of different schedules. We’re making it work, but I suspect it’s not easy for any of us.
In addition to all of the group work, this class is focused on library management. Budgets, planning, communication, management issues, case studies. Gross. It makes my head swim. Ugh.
That’s not to say that I think these topics aren’t important, or aren’t worthy of study. Management is an underrated skill that (I believe) most organizations really suck at. I’ve worked for a couple of stellar managers, but they’re rare. I’ve also had managers (and managers of managers) that have been really bad at it (they’re usually the ones that have been elevated beyond their skills — I got the sense that with some of them, they were elevated because senior management didn’t know what else to do with them). Really great managers possess talent and skill that is specific to that task. Subject matter expertise might be valuable, but management skills exist apart from it. Most of us not only lack the training to be good managers, we lack the talent. I suspect you can be a reasonable manager with training -or- talent, but not if you lack both. Being a good manager also requires a strong sense of self-awareness, and amazing communication skills. Skill, talent, emotional intelligence and communication skills… that’s a lot, and not many of us have that combination of traits… sad, but true.
The other bit of squidgy-ness I get from the topic is that I feel like the study of management attracts a certain personality, one that is really good at case studies. Problem is, case studies are not real life. Hypotheticals are so much easier to manage than reality. Newsflash: being good at working through case studies is not an indicator of your skill as a manager.
So yeah, sure, management issues are worthy of study, but it would probably be just as beneficial if we all went to therapy and figured out how to effectively communicate our situations, and then learned how to work together to figure out solutions that, while they are acceptable to everyone, may make very few people happy.
And also, learned to read a balance sheet, got a reasonable handle on employment law, and learned to treat our colleagues and subordinates as, you know, people.
So that’s that, for now. I’m looking forward to putting this class (the content, not the people) in the rear view mirror.
Otherwise, still doing bird things. Still working on figuring out where illustration and nature journaling fit into my existence. Learning ASL. Doing some yoga, cooking… you know, the usual.
I mean, there were reasons. I was in school, or drawing. It was icy here for the first six weeks of the year. I didn’t feel great for a bunch of it (and then had some, ahem, procedures, to find and — hopefully — fix the issue(s)). Fabulous and talented husband caught Covid right in the middle of the Thanksgiving/end of semester/surgical procedure mayhem, which was… not great. (Thankfully, he recovered fully, but he tested positive for almost three weeks.)
The outdoor learning center where I volunteer lost an owl. Hopefully he’s fine (like NYC’s Flaco), but he’s no longer with us. We also gained an owl (different kind of owl, much smaller, lives in an indoor enclosure)… he’s cute.
We welcomed a new dog, Lucy, into our home, and she is a trip. She’s a big lab mix, full of joie de vivre and sass. I love her with my whole heart.
I’m writing this while walking on a (walking) treadmill. (I got the treadmill at the beginning of 2023, but then Lucy came home, and it was all hands on deck for a few months to get her on the right track.) My Christmas gift to myself was a standing desk. It was inexpensive, and it’s not very robust, so if I like using it, I might upgrade.
Do I have resolutions?
No.
I have continuations of things I started last year. I’ve had some success, but it’s been hit or miss, so rather than try anything new, I want to keep working on the “old”… like:
20 minutes of yoga, 6 days a week, with added emphasis on strength and balance. I’d like to work up to include a couple of 45-60-minute practices a week, but for now, twenty minutes is sustainable. In January, I’m doing a 31-day challenge (some of those days might be TEN minutes, heavy on meditation), so we’ll see how that goes.
More walking. Now that I can do some walking while listening to lectures, that should be a little bit easier. Am I going to be ready for the NYC marathon with my neighborhood walks and “working walks”? No. But I think it beats sitting so much.
Continue with school (MLIS, SJSU). I’m moving in the direction of archiving/preservation and technology, with a small emphasis on controlled vocabularies and metadata. I’m a librarian, but not the kind of librarian most people interact with.
Also “leaning in” to my illustration and design experience. I don’t want to do it professionally, but I miss the work and would like to engage more with it.
A bunch of house projects (painting, decluttering, replacing the AC), some of which I won’t be involved in, but will call people for help.
More work with the outdoor learning center birds… I’ve been volunteering there for almost 12 years (!), and I love it. I may be able to disengage from some of the day-to-day this year and “float.” I’ll deep clean the mew of the red-tail (still doing my part!) and work on special projects (replacing platforms, fixing perches), but I may “lose” my regular day to new volunteers.
Not sure I’ll publish this, or that any of it actually needs to be said, but it’s 9:22p (and, now that I’m old, nearly my bedtime), and I’m thinking about the holidays, expectations, and how to deal…
My fabulous and talented husband is just not into the holidays. Like me, he grew up with a single parent, and for their family, there were more pressing priorities most years.
My family was very into the holidays, but mostly as a performance art. There was church, a tree, a big meal, presents, the whole nine yards. There was also an enormous amount of stress, particularly for my mother, because the expectations, particularly for a single mom raising two children while working full time (and going to school, for a while), were unrealistically high. None of us were much help, so it was hard for her. (Time has dramatically changed the composition of our family — and as grown people, my brother and I contribute a lot more — the holidays are much smaller, and in many ways simpler.)
I actually like Christmas. I like evergreens and lights, red bows, giving presents, making a nice meal and sharing it with whomever. Over the Covid years, I put up lights and trees before Thanksgiving.
If your jackalope isn’t wearing fairy lights, do you even *have* a jackalope?
This year, not so much. 2023 has been a long haul — mostly it was good, but kind of intense. I wasn’t feeling great for a big part of it — not sick, thankfully, but in some pain and generally feeling meh. Add a couple of big-ish procedures and a round of icky medicine, and I’m ready to not see my doctors for a while.
And then, in what seemed like an omen, there was this:
The ornament thing just makes me laugh, because right now, it’s so on brand for this pup. She’s all joyful chaos, and in a way, the ornament is much more reflective of who she is after she “modified” it.
All this to say that Christmas 2023 is going to be mostly a non-event in this household. A tree would be too stressful with Lucy (aka the menace like Dennis), I don’t have the brain space to do a bunch of decorating, and fabulous and talented husband doesn’t seem to notice. Maybe everyone will be more excited about things next year, and maybe Lucy will mellow a little bit? Stay tuned!
The day itself is going to be really busy anyway. My volunteer shift falls on Christmas this year (like the Covid years!). I get to feed the classroom critters along with the raptors, and my fabulous and talented husband is helping me cope beaks and trim talons (and replace some cuffs that didn’t last as long as they should have), so it will be a significant investment of time. Then we’re having supper with some friends who suffered a terrible loss a couple of months ago. We’ll support our friends, and contribute to the Christmas meal with dairy free green bean casserole (if you sub cashew cream for heavy cream, you’re good to go) and a root vegetable tian (also dairy free, subbing the parmesan with a little bit of nutritional yeast).
Then maybe there will be time for some rest…
Speaking of which, it really is my bedtime now, so off I go.
My mom texted me last night, “are you enjoying the break from school?”
Too busy.
Finished school (research paper + infographic + blog post)… I did not procrastinate this semester (unusual), and it still walloped me, because everything ended up coming due over the course of five days.
Fabulous and talented husband caught Covid. He travelled across the country twice this year, to spend time at big sporting events… nothing. Went to the gym after we got back from Portland after Thanksgiving… bam! Poor guy. It’s day 15 and he’s still in a mask at home. (We were both boosted in early October, so his course has been reasonably mild, if long lasting.)
Surgical procedure for me (after consulting with my doctor’s office about Covid exposure), involving stirrups and sedation… unpleasant, but done with (and no cancer!), so that’s good.
Taking care of the household and animals, and cooking and shopping, because somehow I have managed to avoid the Covid (for now, knock wood). Trying to keep up with this in the days after surgery was… challenging… because I don’t know if you know this, but anesthesia makes you kind of loopy, and the stress and anxiety leading up to it did not help.
Volunteering (independently, because for the first time in a while I’m not actively training someone), and a volunteer meeting (Zoom), and a subsequent follow up set of documents about handling new (to you) birds. A dentist appointment (after consulting with the office about Covid exposure). A haircut (in a mask). Christmas planning and shopping. Shipping Christmas gifts to family… catching up from having to ditch last week. My face-to-face appointments are done for a while (thank goodness), and I have one more meeting this morning (via Zoom), and then, maybe I can enjoy time off from school.
Or take a nap, and then enjoy time off from school.
Maybe kick the ball(s) around with this bundle of energy:
Lucy hanging out on the steps… just waiting to find a squirrel being out of line.
The OLC had a bird escape, for the first time in 25 years. I wasn’t there when it happened, so I don’t really know how it went down, but based on conversations with the handler, it sounds like there was a cascade of events. Any of the distinct scenarios, on its own, would not have been a problem. But put them together and it became a bad situation. The end result: a flighted owl flew away, and hasn’t been found. Hopefully, he’s figured out how to survive on his own and is living his best life (see Flaco, the Central Park Zoo’s escaped Eurasian eagle owl), because the other end of that spectrum is a catastrophe.
Any handler, with any level of experience, could experience this. The more experienced the handler, the less likely this particular result, but it needs to be understood that the chances of an escaped bird never go to zero. Wild, captive animals are still wild, still have wild instincts. No matter how well they’re trained or habituated, unexpected things happen. This particular bird had been in human care for about a year, was reasonably well habituated to his handlers, and was just starting to gain experience working on the glove for education.
That was two weekends ago, and over the first few days, the staff and a few volunteers went on a lot of wild goose chases at all hours of the day (and night).
Tools of the trade when hoping to find a wayward great-horned owl: welding gloves and a towel.
I went from that situation to an “urgent” endoscopy (urgent because the clinic had been sitting on it for six weeks, and my doctor had called them), which was a delight, mostly because I wasn’t there (Propofol, FTW), but which left me with heartburn, a sore throat, and some tenderness around my jaw. (Did I mention that I am so glad I wasn’t there.)
And then, to add insult to injury, an endometrial biopsy the next day. That procedure is deeply unpleasant, even when performed by a good doctor doing all the right things (like my doctor). Y’all, the medical establishment has got to figure out how to do women’t health. This procedure involves threading sticks into your insides and scraping the lining of the uterus… without sedation or anesthesia. It doesn’t take that long, thankfully — less than ten minutes. (But word: the actual endoscopy procedure took 15 minutes.) I wouldn’t describe it as painful, per se (I’ve had abdominal cramps that were stop-you-in-your-tracks painful, and this was not that), but it was incredibly uncomfortable. There should be a better way to do this kind of thing, I think. I could live the rest of my life without repeating that procedure, and be happy. (Alas, that does not appear to be in the cards, but I don’t have to do it again for a while, at least…)
Do they biopsy men’s urethras without any kind of numbing? (That’s not a snarky question. I asked my husband for his thoughts, and he shut down the conversation because it was too awful for him to contemplate.)
So yeah, alien probes from both ends, after losing an owl. Thankfully I finished a big school assignment at the beginning of the year, I mean week, and so I had a bit of a breather before diving into the next big assignment, because the stress of alien probes is exhausting, not to mention the unpleasant physical impacts.
At least the results of both were pretty good: no cancer… at least not yet. There are things to work out, but the big, awful stuff has been ruled out, for the moment.
The year, I mean week, continued when fabulous-and-talented husband (technically not an OLC volunteer, but an incredibly good sport) and I picked up a substitute cleaning shift on Saturday, including coping beaks and talons on the hawks, changed out a set of cuffs and jesses for one of the hawks — she was not pleased with any of it, and installed jesses on a saw-whet owl, who, as you might imagine, was also not pleased. (We did this operation in a classroom, so if the bird had gotten away from us, we would have had to make sure he didn’t end up in a turtle tank.)
This tiny owl is BIG mad…
And this week, after doing some additional chores in the raptor sanctuary, including prepping for winter (closing the windows, turning on the supplemental heat for some of the birds, winding the hose onto a reel so it can live inside for the next several months), and some maintenance work (a project for our barn owl, and weighing three of the birds), I started training a new volunteer. She’s amazingly smart, and interested in all the animals (including the reptiles!), but it’s going to take her a minute to get used to working with food. That’s not too unusual; if you had told me, fifteen years ago, that I would be butchering small animals for other animals to eat, I would have laughed in your face. (Most of us don’t work with our food in that way, so everyone can be forgiven for needing some time to get used to the idea.)
I’m whipped. Lots of stress and sadness, and no small amount of physical work (with little creative or intellectual engagement), has me on my heels. I’m looking forward to being able to work on a school project (literature review: serious leisure, library programming and falconry) and some work in my sketchbook over the next few days…
… unless someone happens to see a wayward owl. (I have a new cardboard box in my car, welding gloves, and a towel. I’m ready.)
I am what they call a “mature” student. I’ve been around the block a few times. I’ve done a lot of formal education-related activities. I’ve got a bachelor’s degree, a post-baccalaureate certificate and a graduate certificate… and I was something like six units away from an associate’s degree in the middle of all of that (I had to abandon it for a cross-country move).
And now I’m at the point where, as a graduate student, I still want to learn, but I’m not a fan of the trappings of school. I’m working on a project at the moment that I’m kind of excited about… and while I’m paying close attention to all of the rubrics, readings, and feedback, I don’t really care what my professor thinks about it. That’s not to say that I won’t make changes to it in accordance with feedback. I will, for sure, especially if that feedback helps to move the project in a direction I want to go. But I’m intrigued enough by the subject matter that I don’t feel the need to alter the trajectory of it, if that makes sense.
I guess what I’m saying is that I’m not really looking for my instructor’s approval. I’m interested in theiropinions about how I can sharpen my argument, or strengthen my sourcing, but I’m not all that concerned about whether they think it’s an amazing piece of work. I think the subject is very, very cool, and that’s what matters to me in this moment, I think.
This is kind of a new way of thinking for me, and likely comes from being exhausted from a lifetime of people-pleasing. The thing is, like most people, I generally perform better doing work I’m excited about, or at least interested in. Again, like most people, I *can* do things that don’t really interest me, but I generally don’t excel at them, and that’s fine.
So yeah, this week it was a 1700-word blog post, with photos, a video, and lots of references. Next week, a 1000-word essay about an information seeking-model that pertains to my topic. As I move forward, I’ll fill out my research with more peer-reviewed, academic work (newsflash: I’m currently working with 10-12 sources from the perspectives of archaeology, anthropology, ecology, and, of course, information science).
I’ve been thinking a lot about AI over the last several months, and I’ve concluded that there’s synthesis that happens when I’m researching and writing that AI can’t really help with. Maybe it’s because I’m a deliberate thinker (not all that quick on the uptake), and I need to puzzle ideas out for myself. Maybe it’s because I’m old(er), and I still like to read papers on paper, so I can make notes and mark them up. Also on the “mature,” front, I still draft longhand, occasionally, though I’ve been moving away from that (now I draft mostly in MS Word, so that I can save versions — once a graphic designer…). I’m sure at some point I’ll have to figure out how to work with AI, but at this point, I haven’t found a way for it to be useful for my process.
One thing I am not enjoying? Formatting references (resources… whatever). I’ve always been kind of bad at it, but now I’ve had to switch from MLA to APA, and it’s a little bit different, so… that’s going to take a minute.
But you know what? If I knew how to do any of this I wouldn’t need to be here. So I’m just going to continue to nerd out on my topic, and figure out the rest of it as I go along.
I grew up in a family full of pathologically busy people. Probably some coping mechanism there, along with the internalized Puritanical admonishment against “idle hands.”
So I did school + after school activities (sports/theater/music), went to church twice a week, threw homework and flute practice into the mix, spent time with friends. I also took a bunch of dance classes (which was the thing I really loved).
When I got older (in college), I was in school. I worked. I volunteered with my church youth group.
I was not idle. But I was so tired.
By the time I graduated high school, I was exhausted. By the time I graduated college, I was struggling with suicidal ideation.
And then I spent more than a decade working for a company doing election work, which meant weird, exhausting schedules for months at a time, while working with a management team that, um, was not great. During that time I developed an autoimmune disease, and then I lost the ability to sleep more than three hours at a time… for several months.
I was not idle… but I was falling apart.
I left that job more than a decade ago, and thought I was done with that part of my existence… but apparently not. My mother came for short visit earlier this summer, and by the time she left, I could barely move.
It had nothing to do with my mom’s visit — it was a wonderful to see her and we did some really fun things. In other words, there was nothing about it that should have caused that kind of reaction.
I mentioned to my therapist that I was feeling completely burned out, and I couldn’t figure out why. When we took a peak through the last 18 months, though, things became clearer:
In January 2022, Lilo, our 16-year-old, little dog, got very sick. She had kidney disease and pancreatitis, and in addition to hospital stays, we were at the vet a couple of times a week for fluids for several months, until she passed in October.
When she passed, I was in the middle of a master naturalist course, and trying to get into graduate school.
After a fun trip to Las Vegas in December, we spent a couple of weeks being pretty sick (not Covid, but maybe RSV) over the holidays.
I took a kidlit course (amazing, but a lot more work than I anticipated) starting in early January.
I started graduate school in mid-January.
Lucy came home in late January. (Lucy is wonderful, but she threw a wrench into what was supposed to be a carefully managed schedule.)
After dropping one of my grad classes (to accommodate Lucy) in early Feb., I started a coding certificate course in April.
The Americorps person at the Outdoor Learning Center where I volunteer left in April, so a bunch of us had to pitch in a little bit more to get through the school year — I had originally planned to do one event, I ended up doing three events and holding down the fort for a construction project for 2 more days (in addition to my regularly scheduled volunteer shifts).
Took Lucy to puppy kindergarten (2 classes, each 4 weeks).
I was cooking five nights a week… composed meals. (Why?)
Finished grad school school term #1 in mid-May.
Finished the first coding class, mid-June.
Mom came to visit, end of June 2023.
Lucy, July 2023. A rare moment of peace.
So, uh, yeah, I am burned out.
Again.
I’m proud of my ability to power through during emergencies. I seem to be unable to manage my schedule in such a way that leaves space for the unexpected, though, and that has become a problem. I think my body has probably never really been great at perpetual motion (see suicidal ideation, and inability to sleep), but as I get older it takes a lot longer to recover from the fatigue, and that recovery seems to be accompanied by some unpleasant physical symptoms (GI issues this time around… whee?).
How do people avoid this? I never learned this adulting skill, and I need to figure it out.
I read something helpful on Instagram(?) earlier this summer. The poster suggested that burnout is not managed by taking a break; it gets fixed when you create a more sustainable structure for your life. So let’s try that.
I’m heading into the fall still in recovery mode, with a reduced school schedule (one class instead of two), along with a coding class. Once I finish the coding certificate, I’ll start adding in another graduate class.
I’ll keep volunteering once or twice (but mostly once) a week with the birds, because I like that (and it helps me maintain my master naturalist certification).
And I’ll try to figure out how to eat without pain. (Working with my doctor on that!)
Non-calendared (is that even a word?) priorities include more training with Lucy (who is getting quite good at working with her tunnel, and the ball, and a platform). Her recall is improving, and she’s starting to get the hang of “stay” — at nine months old, she is just starting to get to the point where she can focus on us enough to take treats when she’s away from the house, so I think more leash training is high on the list of our priorities with her.
The other non-calendared priority: journaling and drawing.
And figuring out how to adult without burning out.
Carmen Yount 
