From ‘doing’ to ‘being’ — how long Covid is changing my perspective on productivity
For nearly thirty years I have been in the workforce, building my career, being productive, contributing to my family and society, and, I would like to think, having an impact. In that time, I have taken three extended breaks from work, all intentional and all for joyful and life-affirming reasons. The first break was in my mid-20s, when my now-husband and I took a decadent nine months of unpaid leave to travel, visiting exotic and far-flung countries. This was a time of adventure, excitement, exploration and personal growth, with a dash of home-sickness and the exhaustion of being constantly on the move.
The second and third extended breaks were in my 30s to spend a year with each of my new baby daughters. These periods were not easy, and exhaustion was a significant feature, as was the strange dislocation I felt becoming a ‘stay-at-home-mum’ after being a full-time paid worker for so many years. But these periods were also infinitely joyful with countless moments of love and happiness and memories to treasure for a lifetime. The personal growth of becoming a mother was profound, and as my daughters move into teenage-hood, this growth continues daily.
I now find myself in the midst of my fourth extended break from work and career. This time, however, it has been neither intentional nor planned. It has been devoid of joy or excitement and, given that I often feel like the proverbial “death warmed up”, a long way from life-affirming. I am on extended sick leave, having been diagnosed with long Covid resulting in myalgic encephalomyelitis/chronic fatigue syndrome (ME/CFS), postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome (POTS) and dysautonomia (dysfunctional autonomic nervous system).
ME/CFS causes extreme fatigue which is not helped by sleep or rest, intolerance to physical exertion, and brain-fog (Emerge Australia). POTS adds another layer of brain-fog while also impacting heart rate (Australian POTS Foundation). Dysautonomia affects the autonomic nervous system, which controls all the involuntary functions of the body — heartbeat, breathing, digestion, temperature regulation, stress response, and brain function (Dysautonomia International). Together, these conditions impact all the systems in my body, which explains my current lack of capacity.
Like a traveller in a strange land, and similar to how I felt as a new mother, I find myself struggling to adjust to these novel circumstances. I am frequently confused and forgetful, awake at all hours of the night, unsure of myself and who I even am anymore, afraid of making mistakes and letting people down, struggling to express myself and communicate, and of course utterly exhausted. There was nothing to prepare myself for the situation I find myself in — no guide book or courses to learn what to expect, how to manage the raft of symptoms, or how to adjust to this new way of living.
Just like all long Covid sufferers, I am learning a new language of medical terms, experimenting with different medications and treatments, navigating my way through this foreign situation with very little guidance, relying on fellow sufferers to provide information. Like a new mothers group, we are leaning heavily on each other for support and advice about how to survive and cope. Organisations like Long Covid Support are a lifeline. Meanwhile, the rest of our communities go about their daily lives oblivious to, or worse, judgemental about, our struggle.
For the first six months of my illness, immediately after my infection with Covid-19, I pretended that I was coping. I kept working as best as I could, attempting to keep up with the raft of commitments I’d collected over the years: boss, mother, household coordinator, Chair of Governing Council at my daughter’s school, project manager, taxi driver for my kids, wife, friend. I was under-performing at all of these roles, and my mental health suffered. It was the regular tears triggered by simply washing the dishes that first alerted me to the fact that all was not well. Looking back at the last year is like trying to decipher a page of notes which have been roughly erased. The odd sentence or word is still legible, but mostly it’s pencil smudges across the page.
For the second six months of my illness, I cut back my hours at work in an attempt to continue in my role as a senior manager. But even that was too much, and ultimately I realised that everyone was suffering — my team, my CEO, my family, and myself. It simply was not worth it, and I made the excruciating decision to stop work for at least 18 months (thankfully with the assistance of Income Protection Insurance)*. Beyond that, it’s impossible to predict what the future will bring — when or even if I will be able to return to work and in what capacity.
One of the most profound adjustments I must make now is figuring out how to live with no structure, no schedules, no sense of purpose or urgency. No deadlines, no to-do lists, no planes to catch to the next destination, no infant demanding to be fed. With endless time and none of these things to provide focus in my day, I have found myself drifting through the weeks. While this might seem like nirvana, and in some ways it can be liberating, I find I am constantly battling my inner high-achiever which thrives on productivity and getting things done. The bitter irony is that I have all the time in the world, but I am too unwell to do anything with it.
Any sense of achievement is no longer there, so I must redefine how I perceive myself now that I can’t be “useful” or “purposeful”.
This time, more than any other, I am faced head-on with the loss of identity and self-judgement that comes along with not being “productive”. We are conditioned in our society to believe our worth must be demonstrated and earned by endless activity. When travelling, there is a clear sense of purpose — seeing new places, experiencing new cultures, expanding our perspectives. As a new mother, the sense of achievement is sometimes hard to see, but we clearly have a vital role in keeping a new human alive and healthy. Living with a chronic illness, however, means that the most productive thing I can do is rest.
It’s a profound shock to my sense of self-worth that I am unable to ‘do’ and must simply ‘be’.
The truth is that my worth is not determined by how clean my house is, how full my diary is, how long my to-do list is, how many social events I am invited to, how much I earn, or the labels on my clothes. We are all worthwhile and valuable for the unique individuals that we are. Living with chronic illness, my priority must be deliberate and extreme rest and recovery, not with the goal of returning to productivity to meet society’s expectations, but so I can deeply engage and connect with my inner self and the people I love. If I can allow myself to let go of the need to be constantly ‘doing’, if I can re-define achievement as supporting my body day by day to recover, if I can re-set my primary goal as restoring my quality of life, I can then choose when I want to be productive. If I can reach this state of being, I believe the future will take care of itself.
For others suffering with long Covid (or other chronic illness), I encourage you to reflect on what will best support your recovery. Perhaps dropping back at work for a while, delegating caring responsibilities to family or friends, tolerating a messier than usual house, allowing yourself to binge watch TV. Asking for help. What does your inner voice say about these things? Is it a kind and supportive voice or a judgemental and demanding one? Does it push you to keep going, or does it encourage you to put your health first? Try to talk to yourself as you would a dear friend going through this struggle, giving yourself the understanding and support that you deserve and need.
See if replacing self-judgement with a kinder inner voice will help you move from ‘doing’ to ‘being’, and toward better health.
*I consider myself extremely fortunate to live in Australia where a range of schemes and safety nets are available to most people. I acknowledge that this is not the case in other countries, and that the option to stop work is not always available.
