by Kevin Dean, President & CEO, Tennessee Nonprofit Network
Read part 1 of this series here. Read part 2 here. Read part 3 here.
I’m back, folks. And I am renewed.
Let’s be honest, before I embarked on my one-month sabbatical, I was a hot mess. My brain felt like it had been microwaved on high for too long. Simple decisions, like what to have for lunch, felt monumental. Work was a comedy of errors, with me starring as the perpetually flustered lead. And don’t even get me started on my mood – let’s just say I wasn’t exactly winning any congeniality awards. This was not the way to lead an organization, and I was failing miserably at keeping myself mentally and physically well.
Initially, I approached my sabbatical with the same gusto I bring to everything else in life. I had a meticulously planned itinerary: a new tattoo, a salt cave excursion, my first acupuncture session, and reconnecting with all the friends I’d inadvertently ghosted since our organization went statewide. Basically, I was planning on doing everything I normally do, just on steroids.
Then it hit me: I was about to replicate the very behavior that had landed me in this exhausted state in the first place. I am, for better or worse, a chronic overachiever. It’s both my superpower and my kryptonite. If I wasn’t careful, I was going to burn out even harder on my sabbatical than I had at work.
So, I did something radical. I did absolutely nothing. Pure, glorious nothing.
For an entire month, I became one with my couch. No plans, no social engagements, just me, my pajamas, and an endless stream of YouTube videos and Veep reruns. I ordered Uber Eats with abandon, barely responded to texts or calls, and generally embraced the glorious art of doing nothing.
It was amazing.
If you know me, you know I don’t do “nothing” well. In fact, I lose my mind if I don’t have a full calendar and don’t have something to be creating or fixing. This, though, is what has gotten me in trouble in the first place. My brain finally had the chance to defrag. My body, no longer running on adrenaline and caffeine, remembered how to relax. I emerged from my month of splendid sloth feeling refreshed, renewed, and with a whole new perspective on work and life (more on that in the next blog post).
Honestly, I’m not sure I would have made it through the year without some sort of intervention. This experience was a powerful reminder that we, in the nonprofit sector, are so deeply connected to our work that we sometimes forget we’re human. We need rest. We need time to unplug and recharge. Not everything has to be accomplished RIGHT NOW. Our worth isn’t tied to our productivity. Our identity isn’t defined by our output.
Sometimes, to win the race, we have to slow down, just like the fable about the tortoise and the hare. It’s a hard lesson to learn, especially for those of us who are wired to go full throttle all the time. But it’s an important one.
I hope my experience serves as a reminder to others in the nonprofit world: take care of yourselves. Rest isn’t a luxury; it’s a necessity. And sometimes, the most productive thing you can do is nothing at all. In the next blog post, I’ll share what I’ve learned about myself and what I plan to do differently now that I have had this wonderful experience.
Read part 5 here.