Mel Choyce

  • Returning

    After two and a half months on sabbatical, I find myself approaching my return to work rather quicker than expected. This summer went by fast.

    My sabbatical has been pretty rad. I went to Ireland and got engaged. I had two glorious weeks of printmaking, and my experience teaching drums at GRCB was flat-out amazing. I’ve played an absurd amount of Breath of the Wild. A++ would sabbatical again.

    As my last two weeks start to wind down, I’ve found myself antsy to return to work. I’m having a great time, and yet, I’m also getting a bit bored now that most of my summer plans have wrapped up.

    I also find myself feeling some degree of anxiety and trepidation about returning, and that surprises me.

    Here’s the thing — I like being useful. I’m not really happy unless I’m finding ways to make myself useful. It’s just a thing, you know?

    Part of that desire to be useful is also a desire to feel like my work and my efforts are needed. This is in direct conflict with “whelp, I’m just going to pop off for three months, okay?” 

    My logical brain says: If you’re gone for three months and nothing’s gone wrong in your absence, that’s absolutely a mark of success. You handed off your work. You can take a break without things descending to hell. That’s a mark of maturity in an organization.

    My emotional brain says: Oh my god what if they don’t actually need me? What if I return and everyone’s like “oh hey yeah I guess you exist, we didn’t really notice you were gone?” What if I’m easily replaceable? What if they realize they never actually needed me to begin with, so they fire me? What if? What if? What if?

    Anxiety is one hell of a drug, y’all. 

    Anyway, I’m not really sure what to do about this. I know I’ll return to work, and it’ll be fine. There’s just this disconnect between what I know and what I feel that’s good to get out. 

    See y’all soon.

    (PS — I haven’t used Gutenberg since early June and dang is it looking nice, good job pals 👌👌👌)

    mel

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  • The Cult of Busy

    As I find myself winding down to my sabbatical, I’ve had one persistent thought that’s been causing me a lot of anxiety: why aren’t I busier?

    I’ve heard so many tales of coworkers working 60+ hours weeks, just to get everything done in time for their sabbaticals, or coworkers who ended up working through the first couple weeks of theirs.

    Conversely, I find myself, the week before my sabbatical begins. with a very manageable to-do list. 

    Instead of making me appreciate that I’m able to wind down without having to put in extra time, it worries me. I feel like I should have more to do and I need to be working more.

    I feel guilty that I’m not overworked right now. Like I’ve done something wrong.

    😬😬😬

    Why do we have such a sick obsession with overwork in America?

    I remember in college when my friends and I would regale ourselves with the shocking amount of work we needed to get done that week, like some twisted form of bragging about how busy we were. It was almost a mark of status that you were up to your eyeballs in work.

    In Daring Greatly, Brené Brown writes:

    One of the most universal numbing strategies is what I call crazy-busy. I often say that when they start having twelve-step meetings for busy-aholics, they’ll need to rent out football stadiums. We are a culture of people who’ve bought into the idea that if we stay busy enough, the truth of our lives won’t catch up with us.

    (I feel so called out right now.)

    Keeping busy is a coping mechanism for our feelings of self-doubt and inadequacy. Surely, how can’t I be successful? Look at how busy I am!

    We get ourselves into a cycle of believing that quantity is the same as quality. The more we work, the better we must be doing.

    Obviously, this isn’t the case. But my anxiety and my desire to be seen as capable and successful and hard-working keep tricking my brain into thinking this is true.

    The short answer to why I’m not busier right now is: I’ve known about my sabbatical for over half a year, and planned the past few months accordingly. I scoped my work out for the first half of this year with the knowledge that it all had to get done before I left. My team lead and my coach helped keep me accountable for these goals.

    The fact that I’m not busier right now, in this last week before I go on sabbatical, is a good thing — it means I succeeded at keeping the scope of my work in-check. I didn’t start anything new this past month so I could focus on wrapping up my existing projects. 

    And yet. And yet. There’s still that persistent nagging in the back of my head. Why aren’t you busier? You should be working twelve hour days this week! Everyone else has!

    Clearly, this is something I need to work towards getting over during my sabbatical. I want to be like Paul Jarvis, who wrote in his most recent newsletter: 

    I’m really not that busy with work. Outside of a few times a year, that’s just never the case. Busy is an exception, not a rule. Busy is being reactive, and being constantly reactive doesn’t seem like the best way to run a business for the long term. … Being busy often means I’m completely failing at pace and scheduling.

    Paul Jarvis, Sunday Dispatches

    I admit to being both a little in awe, and a little jealous when I read his email. But Paul has it right — busy is reactive. And busy is a shield, a tool for numbing ourselves against our feelings of vulnerability. 

    I’m not busy this week. And that’s a good thing.

    mel

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  • Sabbatical

    Next month, I hit five years of working at Automattic. At five years, Automatticians are given a paid sabbatical. This is a time for us to relax, recharge, and come back to work refreshed. 

    Five years is a long time. It’s the longest time I’ve ever been anywhere since, well… my elementary school, where I did Pre-K through 3rd Grade. Prior to this, I maxed out at four years at any particular place. Since joining Automattic, I’ve even lived in four different apartments.

    Externally I’m stoked for my sabbatical, but internally, I’m all like…

    Quite honestly, I’m scared of my sabbatical. I’ve spent so long defining myself by my work and measuring my success by my productivity, what does it mean when I’m not working? What does it mean to take off three months and just… exist?

    My colleague Alex sums it up perfectly:

    Take time for me. Even writing those words scares me. What happens when all the work stops? What do I do if I’m bored? I won’t have a default work to go to, so how will I spend my time? Is too much time on my own something I can handle?

    Preparing for Sabbatical – Five Years with Automattic

    I feel like I’m being given a tremendous opportunity for reflection and self-growth, but I’m going to squander it. That terrifies me.

    I’m terrified I’m going to waste my sabbatical. I’m terrified I’ll spend three months in my PJs, sitting on my couch, playing video games. That without the pressure of work, I’ll turn into a slug. Or a rock. Not even a nice rock, all moss-covered and finely shaped, but a gross muddy rock under which a den of centipedes dwells. And slugs.

    Alternately, I’m scared I’m going to fill my sabbatical with not-work that resembles work, and won’t have a chance to decompress.

    To combat this, I’m trying to stack my sabbatical with relaxing and fulfilling experiences:

    • I’m spending 8 days in Ireland with my girlfriend.
    • I have two back-to-back weeks of printmaking lessons scheduled, something I’ve been wanting to get back into for a while, but haven’t had the time for.
    • I’ll be coaching drums at Girls Rock Campaign Boston, which is undeniably going to make me feel vulnerable and make me feel like an imposter but fuck it, I’m doin’ it anyway!
    • I have a coupon for a cooking lesson that I’ve been hanging on to for a couple years now, and will finally be cashing in this summer!
    • Hopefully towards the end of summer, I’ll be taking another trip, this time to Colorado to check out some parks and do outdoorsy things.

    I also have some aspirational goals:

    • I will continue to work with my personal trainer at the gym every week that I’m in town for. Hopefully, I’ll also be motivated to go to the gym on my own more frequently, but if that doesn’t pan out, I’m going to give myself permission to not beat myself up over it.
    • I have a backlog of books I’ve been meaning to read. Surprise surprise. If I get through some of them, that’s awesome. If I don’t? That’s okay, too. They’ll always be there.

    Luckily, I also have my amazing girlfriend to make sure I’m not spending too much time on volunteering (like at Ragtag, which you should also volunteer for!) or other things resembling work. I’m fortunate to have a partner who’ll help me from overcommitting.

    Why am I writing this? In part, Alex’s post gave me the courage to admit this. It helps to know that I’m not the only person who feels this way about taking a sabbatical. I’m also writing this because my coach is having me read Daring Greatly by Brené Brown, which is all about embracing vulnerability.

    But also? I’m hoping posting this will help me stay accountable for my sabbatical plans. If I write them down, maybe they’ll be more real.

    This is for sure: if you see me on Slack over the summer, tell me to take a hike!

    Edit: some wise words from my colleague Matt Wiebe:

    The whole point of a sabbatical is to learn to be a human being, not a human doing.

    😲

    mel

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