It’s June, which means, it’s summer time or almost summer time in the Northern Hemisphere. The sun should be out making for beautiful weather where winter is finally shedding it’s cold chrysalis… Here in Haiti, we officially entered hurricane season a few days ago and are in our second tropical depression so far, which means rain, and lots of it; which means hundreds of thousands of flooded tents, overflowing soakaways and septic canals, and a big upswing in cholera cases. None of this comes as a surprise, it was all expected, but it’s not exactly anyone’s idea of summer fun.
Most of us who have been working in Haiti for over 3 months (myself included, going on one year), are dealing with some level of burnout. This means that we are not functioning at 100% our full professional or personal capacities, but we are still functioning and getting our work done. The issue with burnout in Emergency Response or Development work is that one feels that there is always more to be done; we get so sucked in, that we feel guilty even taking a nap during the day. We’re constantly exhausted, grumpy and low energy. Self-care is a big issue. The curse of altruism is that we take of others to the point that we are sacrificing our health, both physical and mental, for others. We can’t stop helping others, or at least trying to, despite ourselves.
This is not always a bad thing, helping others. The problem with burnout though is that in order to get over it, one has to take an extended amount of time off. Not many people can afford this, but also not many are always in a state where they can pull themselves away from the situation. If I take time off, maybe X bad thing will happen, maybe Y children will suffer. Burnout breeds cynicism and makes us question why we are even here and snap at trivial things. The thing with burnout is is that when it’s time to go, it’s time to go, and remove oneself from the situation.
Burnout is also contagious, when your friends or colleagues are burned out, it spreads; it’s a vicious disease. There is no be-all, end-all cure. Within our organization, we have been having very active dialogue on it lately, trying to find solutions, because the work must go on, somehow. I meet aid workers at the end of 30+ year careers, completely burnout, ready to retire in Thailand, or somewhere equally beautiful; and God knows, they deserve it.
Don’t get me wrong, I love the work I do, I can’t really imagine doing anything too different right now, but is burnout going to be a constant state of being? At what point do the perks (the exciting countries, adrenaline, amazing friends (support systems), the local people) stop outweighing the burnout? Where does the fine line of balance lie? They haven’t yet for me, but I’m feeling tired, and I’m only at the beginning of my career.
I’ve been taking breaks regularly since I started aid and relief work, but I feel myself getting to the point that I need more frequent and longer vacations. I also find myself with a plane ticket to see my family and be with some of my favourite people in the world in one of my favourite places in the world. Yet, I still find myself working in Haiti, constantly mosquito-bitten, hot, tired and dirty.
I call this, the Curse of Altruism.
I would like nothing more than to go on a Satori Worldwide retreat in Bali (actually my favourite place in the world). This innovative venture caters specifically to dealing with aid workers’ burnout in holistic ways. One day, I hope to join them. The problem is, it won’t be today. Today, however, I’m packing my rain jacket and my wellies and headed up to enjoy a night of peace and quiet, some of the great amount of beauty that Haiti has to offer, up Kenscoff Mountain, in Furcy… where it’s nice and cool and feels like Switzerland. A dear and wise friend once told me that the only difference between ourselves (aid workers) and the local friends, beneficiaries and population is that we have the luxury of getting on a plane, whenever we want, and it’s true. For today at least, I wouldn’t trade this rainy place for anywhere else.
