Loving Your Work Shouldn’t Mean Burning Yourself Out

Loving Your Work Shouldn’t Mean Burning Yourself Out

What educator wellbeing looks like when you stop asking “Can I do this?” and start asking what doing it is costing you.

There’s a strange thing that can happen when you love working in early childhood education.

You can be exhausted and still love your work.

You can feel overwhelmed and still care deeply about the children and families you work with.

You can wonder how long you can keep going and, at the same time, have absolutely no desire to walk away from the profession.

Those things can exist together.

And that’s why I think we need to be careful about reducing conversations about educator wellbeing to another list of things educators should be doing.

Drink more water. Get more sleep. Exercise. Meditate. Go for a walk. Make time for yourself.

All of those things can support wellbeing.

But there is another question we need to ask:

What if you don’t currently have the capacity to add another thing?

Functioning isn’t the same as flourishing

Sometimes we look at ourselves and think we must be coping because we are still functioning.

We got up.

We went to work.

We supported the children.

We spoke with families.

We made decisions, solved problems, responded to needs and got through another day.

Then we came home with almost nothing left.

Being able to do something doesn’t necessarily tell us whether doing it is sustainable.

Instead of only asking:

Can I do this?

I think there are two more questions worth adding:

What does doing this cost me?

Is that cost sustainable?

Those questions have changed the way I think about my own capacity.

They move the conversation away from whether we are technically capable of pushing through and towards whether the way we are working is allowing us to have a life outside the work as well.

Sometimes wellbeing becomes another expectation

This is one of the things that bothers me about some wellbeing conversations.

We can accidentally turn wellbeing into another job.

Now, on top of everything else an educator is carrying, there is another list of things they should apparently be doing properly.

And when they don’t have the time or capacity to do those things, wellbeing itself can start to feel like something else they are failing at.

I don’t think we need that.

Sometimes supporting your wellbeing might mean adding something.

But sometimes it might mean working out what you can put down.

That might mean delaying something.

Delegating something.

Declining something.

Simplifying something.

It doesn’t have to transform your entire life.

Sometimes the better question is simply:

How could this week be 5% lighter?

You are an educator. But who else are you?

There is another part of educator wellbeing that I don’t think we talk about enough.

Identity.

For many of us, being an educator becomes deeply woven into who we are.

So try finishing this sentence a few times:

I am…

I am an educator.

But what else?

A parent? A partner? A friend? A learner? A business owner? A daughter? A community member? Someone creative? Someone who loves being outside?

There is no correct list.

The important thing is remembering that no single “I am” has to become your entire identity.

And that leads to a much bigger question:

If being an educator changed tomorrow, what would still be there?

This isn’t about encouraging educators to leave.

The opposite, actually.

The Educators Well isn’t about convincing people to stay in a role at any cost either.

Sometimes the workplace needs to change.

Sometimes the hours need to change.

Sometimes expectations, responsibilities or boundaries need to change.

And sometimes a person might decide they are ready for something different.

Exhaustion doesn’t automatically mean you’re finished, and loving what you do doesn’t mean you have to ignore what it’s costing you.

Where is your well being drained?

When everything feels like a lot, deciding where to start can become another overwhelming task.

I find it helpful to look at four areas:

Body & Capacity Do I have enough physical, emotional or cognitive capacity for what I’m carrying?

Confidence & Clarity Do I feel capable, informed and clear about what I’m doing and why?

Purpose & Boundaries Do I know what matters to me, and are there boundaries around what I can reasonably carry?

Connection & Support Do I have people around me who can support me, listen to me and sometimes help carry things with me?

You may read those and think:

Rachel, all of them.

Fair.

But you don’t need to tackle all four today.

First doesn’t mean only.

It simply means: where do I begin?

Try finishing this sentence:

Right now, I think I need…

Not what the children need.

Not what your team needs.

Not what your service needs.

Not what everybody at home needs.

What do you need?

Your answer doesn’t have to be permanent.

Your starting point can change as you do.

Choose one first step

Once you’ve noticed what you need, resist the temptation to create another enormous list.

Choose one thing.

Not seven.

Not ten.

Not twenty.

One.

One conversation.

One boundary.

One thing you can delegate.

One thing you can make easier.

One person you can ask for support.

One thing you want to learn more about.

Your first step doesn’t need to solve everything.

It only needs to make the next step a little more possible.

Keep exploring

This is the conversation at the centre of my new on-demand webinar, How to Keep Doing the Work You Love Without Burning Yourself Out.

It is now available through Learn & Connect at The Educators Well, and you can work through it at your own pace. Pause when you need to, use the accompanying resources as much or as little as you like, and come back when you have the capacity.

But whether you watch it or not, I want to leave you with this:

My wellbeing matters, not only because others rely on me, but because I am a person worthy of care too.

And perhaps today you don’t need all the answers.

Maybe you just need to notice what is happening, choose where you want to begin, and take one first step that belongs to you.