I (finally) took a break. It was the key to getting literally anything done.

1.

I’ve been feeling tired lately. Not the usual “I’m a bit underslept” tired, but deep-in-my-bones tired. Soul tired.

People who know me will say I’m a naturally motivated person (I mean, they won’t, but they might think it). I’m very productive and want to get shit done. I rarely meet my own standards for productivity on any given day, but my wellspring of motivation is deep. Even outside the PhD, I get satisfaction from doing things well (poetry, calligraphy, dishes) so the motivation flows.

I feel incredibly lucky that this motivation is reliably present. If I’m tired, a few hours of relaxing – maybe up to a day or two – will make me antsy enough to get back to work.

But for the past few months, my motivation has run dry. I’ve been feeling too tired to want to do things.

I don’t want to work when I get up in the morning. I snooze my alarms later and later. When I finally sit myself at a desk, I feel resistant and sluggish. I’m overcome with a sense of don’t wanna. This feeling – this tiredness, this lack of drive – is unfamiliar and upsetting and hard to sit with. At the same time, I feel stressed and worried about how much isn’t getting done.

I’m not good at assessing how long a feeling has been going on; what feels to me like months might have barely been a week. So I reviewed the data. I have a mood tracking section in my journal where I do a weekly check-in. Looking back over the last few months, questions like “I’m on top of my work; my workload feels manageable” and “I’ve felt able to calm myself down when agitated” have been scoring straight zeroes. I do not feel on top of my work. I do not feel calm.

Great.

I assumed it was the Valley of Shit; that this is just what this phase of the PhD is like. Inevitable and unavoidable, like chicken pox once that one kid at kindy has it. With this in mind, I resigned myself to working through it.

I’ve recently been complaining to a friend of mine about the tiredness. He’s been on many mental health rollercoasters, so he not only gets the bone-deep fatigue, he avoids both the stupid advice (just try harder!) and the advice he knows I’ve got covered (sleep hygiene, eating well, iron intake, exercise, reducing alcohol and caffeine, going to a doctor, seeing a psychologist etc.). Instead, he asks me how the PhD is going.

It’s going well, I say. It’s a lot of work, but it’s coming along.

Then he asks me when my next break will be. In response, I laugh in his face (I’m a great friend). Next year, maybe?

He sighs. You’re going to need a break sooner, he says.

Yeah. You’re telling me.

2.

I felt uniquely alone with this tiredness until I read Why are we all so tired? recently from the amazing Professor Inger Mewburn over at Thesis Whisperer. Her post discusses several systemic and institutional reasons that folks in the academy are feeling drained and existentially angsty right now. I couldn’t agree more with her assessment (go check it out, I won’t be rehashing it here).

Honestly, it’s nice to know I’m not alone. When I feel like something is going wrong with me, as I have recently with this unprecedented soul-tiredness, it makes me feel broken. Reaching out to friends feels like admitting weakness (even though I know, cognitively, there’s nothing wrong with having emotions and that tiredness is normal). Knowing that this feeling is shared makes me feel like it’s easier to talk about. It even seems to make the feeling itself more bearable, at least for me.

In that post, Mewburn offers several solutions for dealing with the soul tiredness we’ve been sharing, and I want to add one more:

Take. A. Fucking. Break.

A real one, not the type where you take leave but keep working on the PhD to buy yourself time (I have seen PhD students encouraged by their supervisors to do exactly this, and I cannot recommend it less).

3.

I recently took a break myself. A real one (I know, gasp). I took a week off and went on a road trip to a music festival with my good friend and ex-girlfriend. We’ve been in different cities for the past few years, so I felt especially lucky to have this chance to spend some quality time with her. After picking her up from the airport, we spent a day catching up and getting ready, then drove off into the hills. The festival ran for a few days, which we spent camping and dancing and making friends and wearing glitter and enjoying the sunsets.

When I came back, after a day or so of quiet downtime at home, I returned to my work and found my motivation wellspring had returned. I felt calm as I sat at my desk. I felt ready to work. The insistent feeling of don’t wanna had evaporated; instead, I felt comfortable and energised looking through my to-do list. Instead of drowning in overwhelm, I felt able to assess my list of tasks and prioritise what needed attention today.

In the weeks following the break, my scores in my weekly mood tracker skyrocketed. I now feel on top of my work. I feel calm for the first time in ages.

4.

In looking back at these recent months, it is clear that in the haze of soul-tiredness, my mood had taken a serious dive and I really needed a break. The problem is, that can be really difficult to assess while you’re experiencing it. Cruelly, the stress you need a break from prevents the clarity of mind necessary to identify that you need a break.

I also routinely forget how effective breaks are for my mental health. I assume I’ll feel a bit better after a rest, but that it probably won’t make a serious dent. This couldn’t be further from the truth. Proper rest is crucial. The benefit I get from rest is significant and immediately noticeable and it (absurdly) continues to surprise me, despite previous evidence.

So, in the interest of protecting the inevitably forgetful Future Kelsey, here’s my key takeaway:

It is tempting to feel like ignoring exhaustion is fine because at least you’re getting something done. Working through it will make you feel safe. Taking time off will feel scary because you’ll be getting nothing done (eek). This is a fallacy. Don’t be tempted by this superficial feeling of safety. If you’re already exhausted and feeling fearful about what you can achieve in the next two weeks, I would bet any money that you’ll be more productive on a week of rest followed by a week of work than you would be if you forced yourself to work throughout the fortnight.

If you’re tired, take a break. Just do it. You’ll thank me later.