Summer Break?

As an academic, I spend nine months of the year conducting research, teaching, and engaging in university and community service. During the summer months, when I am off contract, I spend the time researching, prepping classes for the fall, writing for publication, catching up on training, and reading new academic research in my field.

For those who aren’t familiar with tenure-track academic life, you might think that once the teaching semesters are over, it’s a summer-off-free-for-all. I thought that myself when I was a graduate student. How lucky those professors are to have their summers off!

Let me clear things up. Summers are nearly as busy (for me) as the academic year. My research goes into full throttle because I have more time to do it. Those papers I couldn’t get written during my busy teaching schedule finally take shape, and because the summers always whiz by, I must set aside time to recalibrate the courses I’ll be teaching next year. Despite having a nine-month contract, I work nearly full-time twelve months a year (but get paid for nine).

All the teachers of the world, you feel me.

I have had to learn the hard lesson of disconnection. In my previous posts, I talk about connection with people, places, ourselves. But in this newsletter, I’m suggesting that disconnection from the work stuff that keeps our minds from thriving is critical to our mental health. Intuitively, we know this. We know that our minds need rest from the daily business of 9-5 (or whatever hours you spend your time at work). We know that we need to shut down and unwind. But how good are we at doing it?

Stop for a minute and rate yourself on your ability to disconnect from work. Before you rate yourself, let’s define what disconnecting from work means.

Disconnecting from work: The ability to fully engage in an activity (or no activity, aka rest) that has nothing to do with work. No thoughts are drifting to what is on your work to-do list. No fingers are twitching because they’re not on a keyboard or phone checking emails.

Okay, now, on a scale from 1-5, with 1= “I’m terrible at disconnecting from work, I’m always thinking about it,” to 5= “I’m great at disconnecting from work, I can completely forget about what’s waiting for me when I return,” how well can you disconnect?

Full transparency: I’m about a 2.76589. A smidge over half.

I tested this last week on vacation with my husband in the Upper Peninsula. (See last week’s newsletter for some description of my travels and how wonder and awe can improve our mental health). I was surrounded by beauty, clean air, wildlife (Bald eagles! Swans! Deer! Just to name a few), yet, I found my mind wandering to my research project, my upcoming full professor dossier due next month, and the bevy of trainings I must complete before the deadline (also next month). I took my laptop with me on the trip, and on more than one occasion, my husband would come upstairs to find me furiously typing away.

I did spend much of our time in the U.P. engaged in the beauty and wonder of my surroundings (see “Hug a tree, it’s good for the soul”). I found myself captivated and enchanted but I wasn’t completely disconnected from my other life, the one that calls me doctor professor, the one that I allow to hold me intellectually hostage. I use the word “allow” intentionally, because I have control. I can leave the laptop at home. I can hide my email icon on the home page of my phone. I can try to ignore the finger twitching.

I could look up all sorts of research to support how siesta, timely breaks, and vacation time give us balance and shore up our mental resources. But wait, I’ve already done that. The problem might be taking time off (of course we know that can be a problem) but it’s also what we do with that time off. How well we disconnect. How much we give ourselves during those breaks, siestas, and vacations.

What is it that keeps us from fully disconnecting? Do we need a literal “off” switch for that part of our brain? Or is it that we need to make intentional choices to put ourselves and our “break” time first? It’s amazing how much power it takes to do just that.

Last year, my daughter shared with me a book written by a man who chose a life of not working in the traditional sense and how he’s at peace and living his best life. I cannot recall his name or the book (we’re moving and all my books are packed) but this man also had a viral social media following. This idea is catching…life first, work second. This past spring semester, when I asked my students what their next steps were after graduation, I had a student who said she wanted to be “famous” and that was it. The class laughed, but I sensed some seriousness in her comment. She didn’t want to have to work too hard.

Work makes the world go round. It makes things happen. But we must have a balance. We must work as hard at protecting our life outside of work as we do our work life. But, how?

I believe it takes two things: Intention and practice. We must plan to put ourselves first. When we approach the end of the workday, we must begin the shutting down process. We must tell ourselves that the upcoming non-work time belongs to us, we own it, we’ve earned it, and we can only be healthy if we use it mindfully to disconnect, detach, rest, and engage in things non-work related. We should signal to our bodies, minds, and spirits that no bad will come from not checking that email until tomorrow or next week.

But, you say. I’m critical to the mission at work. It will all fall apart!

No, it won’t. And if you’re the only critical part of the work machinery, that’s an engineering problem at your workplace. That’s not on you.

We must be intentional about protecting our “me” time. Give yourself permission to shut it down. Turn it off. Not look at it. You mind might still wander. Your fingers might twitch. It’s a process.

It also takes practice. Start small, especially if you’re like me (or even lower on the scale of work disconnection). Put the phone and laptop out of reach for an hour. Then two hours. If lightning doesn’t hit you or your laptop doesn’t explode or you don’t crumble into a corner of the room from anxiety from not checking something, it’s a win.

Practice engaging in something during the time you’re not working. Read. Write. Learn a new hobby. Cook a meal. Take a yoga class. Watch a funny video or three (laughter really is the best medicine…I prescribe it to my students all the time). Take a walk. Call a friend. Whatever you do, it should have nothing to do with work.

My goal this summer is to have a full week of disconnection. My husband will read this and he will hold me accountable (hi honey!) Having a disconnection accountability partner is another good way of keeping what’s really important right in front of you. Share the load of disconnection. Let someone support you.

I’ll check back in on this experiment later this summer. Wish me luck. In the meantime, I’ll share a pic that represents disconnection from our trip last week. This is our dog, Karma, who is absolutely detached from all her worries and just enjoying being outside and free.