Coming full circle to the moment I set myself on this path to get a second degree. It’s 6 am, and I’ve been coding since 3pm the day before. I’m so tired that my body is jittery and I can’t keep my eyes open. I’m hungry and dehydrated but I dread that anything I eat or drink will come up as quick as it goes down. I eyes are heavy and the sun is coming up. My two dogs, Inlé and Hazel, are making those dramatic quiet whining noises when they are tired of my crap and they want me stop staring at evil rectangles, whether it be my desktop computer, my phone, or my tablet. They hate all rectangles that take my attention away from them for so long.
They say your body is a temple. Generally and philosophically speaking, I mean. But society expects you to treat your brain like a diesel engine, driving miles before you are allowed to give yourself a break. American exceptionalism ties our work ethic to our self identity, mental and emotional health be damned. We coin silly phrases like “I’ll sleep when I graduate” and collectively pretend that we are somehow immune to the constant stress of dedicating so much mental real estate to work. From 9 to 5, Monday through Friday, our brains are amusement parks filled with excel spreadsheets, shared google docs, and debugging consoles. From Friday evening to Sunday night, our brains are garbage disposals for social media platforms and Netflix originals. Somehow, we have forgotten that our brains are a part of that beautiful cathedral that we are supposed to protect.
I’ve run into a wall this week while working on the capstone project for this class and coding for other classes. I hit the wall so hard that I can feel my brain physically give up as if it no longer understands English, math, or basic logic. I step away from the evil rectangle and curl up with Hazel and Inlé on the couch. My disappointment in the lack of progress on my project is not enough to keep me from the deep sleep I’m about to enjoy. I wish I could say that this was the only time I’ve stayed up till daybreak trying to get projects finished, but unfortunately it’s been the norm as of late.
If you were to ask me about this type of marathon-work back when I was in law school, I would have made some sarcastic statement about how I love to eat, breath, sleep work. Old me would still keep going as if I was invincible, not thinking that the long term repercussions would take me to the very place I’m sitting now. I believed my temple was built of granite, therefore I didn’t need to rest. I made it out of law school without burnout, without crashing, and surprisingly without the need to use reading glasses. But it sucked a bit of my soul out, and retrospectively, I realized that law school was the last time in my life I could endure the toxic work-life un-balance. I realized that my temple was also made of stained glass. When I finally accepted that I was experiencing burnout from my firm job and I decided to attend OSU’s Post-Bacc program, I promised myself that I would never allow job-related activities consume energy properly reserved for my personal priorities and self care. It’s 6am, and I’m breaking that promise as I switch from project to project, typing this blog in between.
All around the world, and throughout many cultures, temples are for coming together, celebrations, rituals, learning, seeking sanctuary. Whatever philosophical purpose you believe a temple or cathedral serves, the general goal (not always achieved, but you get the idea) is to enrich those that enter through its doors and to maintain some sort of positive atmosphere. We metaphorically relate this to our bodies, and translate the concept to “eat right,” “exercise,” “do whatever moral things you believe are good for your body,” etc. But we often forget that our brains are one of most important pieces of that temple. When inside our own cathedral, we can see the parts of our bodies that need care, the heavy wooden doors, the stone walls, the shrines and interior architecture. But we also need to take care of the part we can’t see from inside, too. We need to care for the part that brings everything together, that signifies who we are. We need to care for our steeples.
Our brains need sanctuary periodically. Time to decompress. Time to engage in non-productive activities. I know it’s past midterm for this quarter, and you have to get projects done whether you have self-care time or not, but keep this sentiment in mind. Don’t feel guilty for stepping away from whatever evil rectangle has so much of your attention. There’s an empty pew waiting for you.
