When work makes us sick

This post is inspired by the story of Yumiko Kadota, a young doctor who was worked to the point of burnout and who chose to walk away from her goal and dream of being a surgeon. I heard part of her story last night on ‘The Drum’ and then read some of her blogs on mindbodymiko.com

If I were a fire-breathing dragon, Yumiko’s story would more than likely result in someone’s torching. She was worked to the ground, despite her pleas for help, and rostered on for many more hours and many more demands than some of her colleagues. Having worked 10 days in 14 of being on 24 hour call over a number of months, often working up to 3 weeks at a time without a day off, Yumiko reached the point where she could no longer function because her body and her mind could not keep going. Although I could speculate, and probably with some accuracy, as to the reasons for why she was given more hours than her colleagues, I don’t know the whole story and my speculation is not necessarily going to assist. What I do say is ‘Well done Yumiko, for speaking out and for choosing your own health and well-being.’

Yumiko’s case is an extreme example, but day in day out I hear stories along the same theme. There are so many competent, talented, good-hearted, giving people out there working long hours in challenging conditions with little to no thanks and at risk of burnout. Every day in the news there are issues raised which result in a collective head-slapping because it should be so obvious that [the issue raised] is blatantly not OK but people don’t seem to get it. We have enquiry after enquiry, Royal Commission after Royal Commission. The ‘bleeding obvious’ is thrust in the faces of those making decisions day in day out and yet nothing changes. What kind of wide-spread catastrophe needs to happen before ‘those in power’ suddenly realise that our society or our system cannot keep functioning this way. A society with a foundation of exploitation, greed and expediency will collapse at some point.

I’m not going to solve the systemic problems of this country in one blog but here are a few questions:

1. Who in the world could look at the working conditions of Yumiko Kadota and not know instantly what the outcome would be?
2. What on earth is the point as a society of spending a lot of time and money on researching best working practices and the minimum requirements for safe work places if that research is repeatedly ignored and workers continue to suffer work place injuries because they are made to work too many hours and deal with too many challenges and get little to no thanks or recognition for it?
3. How do people become and remain managers when they are prepared to treat their staff so poorly and with such little empathy and compassion? Since when did accountability by budget or KPI lead to good management?
4. When are the people in frontline work, where they are at risk of burnout and vicarious trauma, and who give of themselves day in and day out going to be acknowledged and thanked and valued, and not just that but paid appropriately for what they do?
5. When is someone going to include in government accounting the cost of lost work time and treatment for due to stress, burnout and work-related illness?
6. Why is the cost of recruiting and the cost of losing knowledgable, competent staff not included in government accounting and budgeting?
7. Why is it acceptable politics for the government in power to have to address the unemployment rate but not be questioned at all about how many of those who are employed have job descriptions that encompass more than is possible for one FTE to accomplish?
8. Would it not make a lot more sense to employ some of the currently unemployed to share the workload of those I will call the over-employed?
9. When is the government going to assess the impact on workers of various government policies that affect their workspace and direct how they are to do their work.
10. How can the structure or line management be changed so that workers, who are really struggling with workload, significant challenges or other work-related issues, can put up their hand without risking some kind of retribution from management?

Breaking Radio Silence

I don’t even know how long it is since I last posted on here – probably years rather than months – and that’s due to full time work that is in fact more than full time and demands 85% of my brain capacity.  The other 15% is demanded by my children, who do not really care for the fact that their mother is full time in the workforce.  “What do you mean you want to rest on the weekends?!  We work hard at school too….”  Kiddos, you have no idea!  Anyhow, I determined recently to do my best to find writing time and make a habit of posting blogs more regularly.  This is one of three blog sites I have and focuses on motherhood and mental health or perhaps now motherhood, work and mental health.  Another of my blog sites focuses on finding “beauty in the battle” and the third on tips from a working mother to a “stay at home” father.  I’ll endeavour to post on each of these pages regularly.  What “regularly” actually means I’m not sure but, to resort to a cliche, “watch this space”.

Cultivating mental health and wellbeing is increasingly challenging with so many demands on our time and energy and so much pressure from media and various other sources to function to a certain level.  I work as a lawyer with the state’s child protection authority so that is stressful and challenging without any of the other demands on me.  Then there are the kids and hubby, trying to maintain relationships with friends and family and possibly most challenging and frightening of all, my journey into and through menopause (!)

I plan to outline the various ways I endeavour to maintain an even keel and find my own space and today I’ll start with my stand up paddle board.

I had been wanting to give stand up paddle boarding a go for ages and was finally prompted to do so by a Scoopon voucher – a lesson and 2 hours of paddle boarding for $35.  A week later and I had two friends on board (sorry) and we were booked for a Sunday afternoon in February at Point Walter.  The lesson was extremely useful to get started but I did spend a good part of the 2 hours learning how to get back on the board after falling off in deep water.  Overall it was fun and I was determined to do it again.

The second SUP experience was when I went camping with the same friends in Mandurah and we hired a couple of boards and decided to give the kids a go.  I got on the board and took off with much greater ease than I expected.  The kids also loved it and the beauty of paddle boarding in the Mandurah inlet is that the water is knee-deep for metres and metres and it’s possible to walk alongside the board rather than watching your little person paddle out to deep water without you.

It was during this time that I was on the board with daughter #2 on the back and I saw dolphins.  As I paddled toward them they swam towards us and I had the amazing experience of watching a dolphin swim right alongside the board.

After my second go at SUP’ing I was keen to get my own board.   By Easter I had researched the options and chose an inflatable board sold by a crew in Queensland.  My board arrived in a massive box just before Easter along with a pump, paddle and backpack for them all to live in.  I chose an inflatable board so I did not have to invest in a roof rack but also, at 160cm tall and light framed, I did not have to get the board on and off the roof of our car and potentially have to carry it a considerable distance to get it to the water.  The board is still quite heavy and unwieldy but I do find it much more manageable to be able to carry it folded up in a backpack closer to the water before inflating it.

My first outing on “Paddy Murphy” as my board is known was to a place on the Swan River near Bicton baths.  Hubby came with me to make sure I had help if I needed it but the inflation process is straightforward and I have since taken the board out on my own several times.  Having to inflate and deflate each time is inconvenient but it still suits me better than having to wrestle with a hard boarding carrying it all the way from the car park.

My preferred place to paddle now is on the ocean.  There is a lot more movement of the water underneath the board but to me that adds to the experience.  It is also important to know the wind direction and how strong the wind is before heading out as paddling into the wind is hard work and I would not take the board out if there is a reasonably strong offshore wind.  The board I chose is a board built to maintain stability in general conditions and with complete beginners.  I’ve had children and first time SUP’ers use it with ease.  Having said that it also handles a bit of surf and I envisage using it for some time before wanting to move on to a board built more for ocean conditions.

I have lived most of my life near the ocean and certainly an element of my mental and emotional wellbeing is vastly improved whenever I am at the beach and even more when I am in or on the ocean.  I need a good 40 minutes by the time I get to the beach, inflate the board, take it out for 20 minutes or so and then rinse and deflate it and get it back in the car so it’s no 5 minute exercise but I haven’t found it difficult to make time to get out on the board and when the weather is good I’m out on it at least once a week.

Some of my boarding highlights have included paddling at South Beach at dusk on a perfectly still and warm May evening with a friend who has never SUP’d on the ocean before.  Then in June we had a family holiday in Queensland and I hired a board at Noosa and went paddling in the Pacific Ocean with spectacular views of the Noosa coastline.  And the ultimate so far has to be the close encounter with the dolphins.

It’s now October and I haven’t been paddle boarding since July so hanging out to get back  into it.  The weather is improving but the wind needs to drop a bit – hopefully next weekend.

#iRockerSUP

Choose to love someone when you would prefer to kill them

It’s no secret that those closest to us are able to inspire us to the greatest feats but they are also more able to press our buttons and render us quivering molten wrecks more effectively than anyone else.  As for me, I can maintain a professional, rational demeanour all week in a high stress, demanding, quite conflictual job and come home and be at my wit’s end with my 7 year old in less than a day.  I’d prefer not to admit this, but on a really trying day I have to fight the desire to inflict pain on her…..and to see what price I might fetch for her on Ebay.

It’s then that I need to choose whether to let her wear the full intensity of my disapproval and frustration or whether I choose to work hard to try to figure out the underlying reason for her behaviour and find a way to connect with her and resolve the issue.

I will not tell her that her sister is the “good” one in the family.  I will not tell her that she is the “trouble maker”.

I will remind her that I love her to the moon and back.

I will try to remember that the consequences imposed for her behaviour need to be reasonable and not disproportionately punitive.

I will try to help her understand how her [completely over the top] melt downs affect the whole family and that there are different ways of dealing with things that trouble us.

I will try to focus on the fact that although this little one may not have been a planned addition to our family, I cannot imagine what life would be like without her.

Full stop.

Unity not Uniformity

Uniformity is when everyone needs to look the same or appear as if they are the same in order to be included or accepted.  Unity, on the other hand, is where a group of people share similar values and a common goal.  The emphasis is not on how everyone looks or what they are like but on working together for the common good.

We naturally gravitate to people who are like us and when we feel comfortable in a like-minded group we find it difficult to open up the boundaries to allow others to join.  But giving others a verbal or implied message that because they look different, think differently or have a completely different cultural outlook they can’t belong is choosing and promoting self-protection rather than love.  There is such richness in belonging to a community where there is diversity.  Having our views challenged, learning to see things differently, opening our hearts to people whom we would naturally avoid enables us to grow in depth, in humility in love and gentleness.  It promotes a much greater quality of life…for all.

Without getting political about the asylum seeker issue, what worries and disturbs me more than anything is a prevalent fear of what we would lose as a nation by allowing asylum seekers to live in Australia.  What about what we could gain?  What about a thought for what so many people have suffered and lost, that they are internationally homeless and that they just want to feel safe?  How might it be to try to see things through their eyes?

Choosing to love means fighting the innate tendency to choose uniformity and instead to challenge ourselves to include in our circles those who look or act differently.

#Choose to love

 

#ChoosetoLove

Today marks the first day of Lent, 40 days of fasting and devotion leading up to Easter.  The point of Lent is to think about giving up something as an element of sacrifice to “share with the sufferings” of  Jesus Christ, who suffered in the most inhumane way, having been convicted without trial of a capital offence and then being crucified, one of the cruelest, most painful and sadistic methods of execution.  It’s also about trying to let go of things that get in the way of focusing and meditating on God’s love as we approach one of the most holy and sacred events in the Christian calendar.  So I’ve been thinking about what I will give up for Lent but more than that – I’ve also been thinking about what I’m going to take up for Lent – that is the positive steps I can take to focus more on my Lord and on things of importance, taking time out of my busy lifestyle to quieten and centre my spirit in the things of God.

One of the things I plan to do is to meditate on what it means to choose to love, for love is indeed a choice and a necessary choice if we are to connect to the Divine and also if we are to fight against the fear mongering of current politics and much of the modern ethos.

In 1 John 4:18 the Apostle John talks about “perfect love casting out all fear”.  Perfect love is not possible but we can all strive to stand with open arms to all those who feel excluded and who don’t fit in with the “ideals and expectations” of modern society.  We need to choose love if we are to shift the balance from exclusion and fear to open-hearted love.  I want to stand with open arms.  I want to #choose to love.

 

My 9 year old daughter

So I was sitting on a train today on my way into the city.  It’s not a working day; it’s a Saturday and I’m with my 9 year old daughter, going into the city to buy a birthday present for her friend for the sleepover birthday party she’s going to tonight.  We get on at one station and at the next station 2 teenage girls get on.  They’re fidgety, standing rather than sitting, ricocheting from one side of the train to the other, getting ready to get out at this station but staying on the train.  I wonder if they know where they’re supposed to get off.  We get to the next station and one pings out the door like she’s been shot out with a sling shot.  Two more teenage girls get on and the one left on the train explains: “Annie got on the train without a ticket.”  They all fixate on a spot outside the door.  We all fixate on the door.  Annie springs back on the train just as the doors are closing and they spend the next few minutes giggling.

My 9 year old daughter rolls her eyes and sighs, “Teenagers!”

While I’m dissolving into laughter and wondering how a 9 year old has any insight into teenage mentality, she explains.  “Those girls are acting as if there is no one else on the train.”

And I marvel at how 9 years seem to have disappeared into thin air, barely the blink of an eye, and my previously completely self-absorbed child is now able to see that in others and reject it.

And for the first time in her life I have hope for her teenage years.

Changing Family Culture

When you think about your family culture, what do you think of?  Are you intentional about what forms a part of what is important to your family or does it kind of morph into a set of values and practices that become important to your family and what you do year in year out?

I am generally an intentional person but I confess that I find that time zips by so quickly that our family values and practices do often develop out of daily habits and just what we tend to do.  That’s why what I’m writing about in this blog kind of surprises me.  I’m writing about the year I decided to have a go at changing family culture – it was a combination of being intentional and reaching the end of my tether over certain things.

It was Easter 2011..or 2012..to be honest I can’t actually remember which year it started.  It actually started in 2010 when our church, to which we had just returned, having lived away from Perth for 5 years, announced that it was no longer celebrating Easter.  Instead it was going back to the Biblical festival of passover, a Jewish practice but one oozing with symbolism and focus on how the last week of Jesus Christ’s life had fulfilled a number of the aspects of the celebration of Passover.  It was a big announcement, a big adjustment and the catalyst for me to consider why our family celebrated Easter.

Truth be told I had been growing increasingly disenchanted with the fact that Easter eggs were appearing in stores barely 2 weeks after Christmas was done and dusted, and that it was possible to buy hot crossed buns in February!  Just what was it about Easter that was spiritual?  My children fixated on the whole notion of chocolate and spent far too much time poring over catalogues figuring out which mega eggs they wanted.  When I tried to talk to them about what else Easter might mean they were simply not interested.

In 2011 (or was it 2012?) I drew a line in the sand.  NO. MORE. EASTER. EGGS.  I simply could not bring myself to give my money to companies who had no compunction into flooding shelves with chocolate bunnies 2 months before it was necessary.   I announced to my family that we were starting a new tradition and that I had told the Easter Bunny to give the chocolate destined for our house to families who needed it more than we did.  Instead, we would be doing something special together as a family.  In fact that year we all rode the Fremantle Ferris Wheel together and visited the mini fair on Fremantle esplanade.  It was fantastic.  The Freo Ferris Wheel did at least 7 revolutions, giving views across to Rottnest, over Fremantle harbour, over the town and across the ocean as far as eye could see.  It was beautiful.  The girls loved it and did not particularly miss the chocolate.

We have kept to that tradition since.  I do not object to others giving them chocolate at Easter and this year my parents did an Easter egg hunt with them.  I think they each received 4 or 5 mini eggs and a small Lindt bunny.  I am writing this in June and both girls have 90% of their Lindt bunny left in the fridge and one of the girls still has some of her mini eggs left.

When I drew my line in the sand I was a bit worried about how the girls would go.  It’s tricky for kids whose families practise different cultures to the norm.  I was conscious that I didn’t want them to appear too different from everyone else.  The reality is quite different however.  They don’t seem to be overly bothered by the fact that their friends get mega eggs or are visited by the Easter bunny.  They mention it from time to time but not with a notable degree of angst.  They enjoy the family time – this year we spent a day at the zoo.  And clearly they don’t miss the masses of chocolate as they both still have most of their Lindt bunny still to eat.

So….if you’re contemplating a change of family culture, be daring and take a step into the unknown.  You never know what the result might be…..

I Let Down my Football Team

Today I let down the local football team.  As well as my many parenting duties it appears that I should also have supported the Dockers today.  They lost because instead of choosing loyalty and watching the match I chose to go the Royal Show with the kids, thinking and hoping that it would be quiet because the game was on.  It was not quiet and my disloyalty had dire consequences.  The Dockers lost their first grand final.

It is years since I have watched an AFL match but since the Dockers started I have been a nominal follower.  Whenever they played the Eagles it was of course essential that they win.  Being a Fremantle resident it was natural that I follow their progress with interest.  But watch a match?  Hmmm, not sure.  So little time, so many things to fill it with.  

It’s years since I’ve watched an AFL match.  You would think the Dockers making the final would change this but it didn’t.  I guess it shows that my priorities do not really rate football games as worth my precious time.  And that’s OK.  It’s OK to be interested in a football team without having to watch  a match.  It’s OK to swim against the flow and choose to do something else with my Saturday than to watch the match.  It’s OK to choose something that my family would prefer to do than sit down in front of a screen.  And we did engage in the local cultural experience as we stood at North Fremantle train station,  watching people at every train station on the Fremantle line cram themselves in the already packed carriages, carting people into the centre of Fremantle.

Football is the religion of many parts of Australia but it’s not my religion.  I have other things that get in the way of my worship of God but it appears that football is not one of them.  And I’m not saying that choosing to watch a football match today amounts to idolatry, not at all, but choosing not to watch it is just as valid a choice.  

The Royal Show was fun, by the way.  It was far busier than I expected of a football dominated Saturday but it was fun, a nice family time.   And now that we’ve been, now that we’ve managed to survive a Dockers loss, life will go on.  It will now be another 10 – 11 months before I have to deal with more nagging about going to the show (next year) and also another 10 – 11 months before we’ll know whether the Dockers have another shot of the finals next year.  I hope they do.  I hope they win next year.  I might even watch the match.

So much more to life than TV….

In the name of encouraging my children to prefer outdoor pursuits to television and computer games, I took my neon-white, hairy, winter-flubbery legs down to the beach today…..and the children of course. It’s August so the majority of winter had preceded us and the water was COLD, but the sun was shining gloriously and it was a great day to picnic and play on the sand and in the water. The thing is, my girls love the beach. Miss C was not the least bit fazed by the water temperature and went in on her boogy board. Miss N was considerably more reticent but was also persuaded to “swim” as long as Mummy kept a firm hold of her. It was too cold for me to swim but I did go in thigh high so that Miss N could have her go. When the water became too cold for all of us, we spent time making sand angels and checking out the variety of shells, finding artistic bits of seaweed and generally enjoying the sunshine after quite a few bleak days of rain and cloud.

There are a lot of things I could say about today’s outing. For one, it was nice not to be so busy with other things that we didn’t have time for a beach expedition. Secondly, to my mind, this was a far superior option to staying home and watching tv. I’m sure my girls agreed, but the second I mentioned heading home it was “can we turn the tv on when we get home?” Arrgghh! It’s such an ongoing battle to avoid the terrible screen! It’s so much easier to turn the thing on and let the kids sit, mesmorised, so that I can get half an hour’s worth of jobs done. If I say no to the tv, then I’m faced with either having to come up with something to entertain them or, if they do manage to come up with something to entertain themselves, it’s only a matter of time before I have to step in as mediator.

Still, I’ll persist with the outdoor activities because I’m determined that my children will develop a stronger and stronger taste for it. I’m determined that, growing up, they’ll have lots of fond memories of time spent outside and adventuring. I’m sure they won’t particularly remember what they saw on tv or the computer games they played, but they will remember time at the beach and the different parks we’ve picnicked and played at. They’ll remember feeling fit and free. They’ll remember the feel of the sun on their backs and the sand in between their toes; even the shock of the first toe dip into freezing water. And that’s what I’d prefer to remember too.  I want memories with my children, of being with them and having fun with them.  I don’t want to be so bogged down in domestic details that I don’t manage to have these times with them.  I don’t want to use the tv as an excuse to avoid contact.  These girls are precious gifts, as are the amazing weather in this town and the beautiful beach that is a mere 5 minutes’ drive away.  I don’t want to waste them!

A Child-Free 24 Hours

Hubby and I have just enjoyed 24 hours without our kids.  Don’t get me wrong, we love our kids but when a good friend offered to have them for a sleepover, we didn’t have to think too hard about it.  Coffee and a movie, a quiet dinner at home, a night’s sleep free of interruption and a sleep in.  It was reeeeaaaalllly nice.

When my first baby was born, I didn’t want her out of my sight for a minute.  On the very few occasions we went out and left her with a babysitter, I fretted.  She is now 6 and a half and things have changed since then…quite considerably.  I love being with my children but I also love short periods of time away from them.  It’s good for everyone.  It is good for them to be exposed to families who do the familiar things in unfamiliar ways.  It’s good for them to see how good and comfortable their lives are at home.  It’s good to know that if Mum and Dad are not available for whatever reason, they have others who will love them and look after them.  And it’s a good break from the unrelenting demands of being a parent.  In fact I can tell when I’m overdue some “time out” because my fuse halves in length and I find myself telling the kids off for perfectly normal behaviour that I wouldn’t even blink at on another day.

This makes me think of extended family and of cultures which obligate extended family members to contribute to the upbringing of a child.  There are pros and cons, of course, especially if your relationships with extended family members or in-laws are dysfunctional but when these relationships are healthy, there are so many benefits.  Children grow up considering a number of points of view.  They have the chance to learn from a number of significant elders.  Parents are relieved of the unrelenting pressure to meet their children’s needs single or double-handedly.  And the kids are surrounded by people who love them and are happy to “own” them.  My next-door neighbours are Caucasian but they have grandparents and uncles and aunts on both sides, all of whom live quite close.  Their two boys often spend nights with their aunt and their grandparents share the school drop off and pick ups when the parents are both working.  It works apparently smoothly and the boys are happy, well-balanced, confident little chaps who relate well to all kinds of people.

In my own case, I have lived away from family for significant periods and even having returned to my home town, my parents live 5 hours drive away.  My brother lives in USA and the most often I see him is every 2 years.  My husband’s family also live on the other side of the world.  My girls are a bit bereft of close and loving family.  Thankfully we have friends who are willing to step up to the mark and play the role of surrogate aunt and uncle (and cousins).  These are the friends who had our girls for 24 hours so recently.  We also have a strong church community where friends step in and help out when we need it.  I’m not sure how I’d cope without these supports.  The fact that we do have these supports makes me think about how I can be family to kids who are otherwise a bit lacking in family.  It’s a role we can all play.  It’s not necessary to be blood-related in order to love a child.  It’s simply a matter of looking for what is endearing in that child and finding ways to encourage and affirm them, to win their trust; a consistency of presence and celebrating with them what they love and what they think is important.  Yes it takes time and energy and commitment but my life doesn’t feel the poorer for having taken a surrogate family member role with some friends’ kids.  My life is the richer for having supportive friends and it’s also the richer for finding time to love others’ kids and giving them a home away from home.