From about mid-January, things went downhill for me. “Downhill” for many means exceptionally good performance and plenty of work (yes, I know) — here’s an incomplete list: I wrote a meaningful grant proposal that could support several other people for a few years, started writing a book about recovery from depression (which I’ve been trying to begin for about 10 years), completed my first piece of fiction after 13 years which I believe is genuinely good (and while the editor told me it was an excellent book, he also rather tore it apart… and I must unfortunately admit, rightly so), finished some academic publication and began writing another, started preparing for my habilitation, had quite a lot of psychotherapy and counselling clients, helped a few people who didn’t want to be in this world, supported my wife in completing (yes, another) masters thesis in her dream field of psychology, tried to be at least a below-average father and partner, rescued a relative from serious problems, helped an American professor a little bit to learn Czech quickly, earned a fair bit of money so we could continue renovating the flat we bought 1.5 years ago, and successfully completed psychotherapy training (which I’d been putting off for almost a year). I could go on.
But. During this same period, I stopped sleeping (or rather, slept between “not at all” and about 4 hours maximum). I should note that sleep is usually something I’m fairly good at (and at the same time, sleep difficulties are an indicator for me that something’s going wrong). I started being irritable towards those around me and myself. I was constantly tired. I stopped exercising regularly. I began eating poorly. I drank a bit more (drinking isn’t my major problem, so my one or two beers or glass of wine wouldn’t impress much of our population). I missed X deadlines and annoyed quite a few people – especially university students, many of whom didn’t show much empathy (but I believe they’ll learn that – and in their defence, they really did have something to be upset about). I cancelled X meetings, teaching sessions, etc. I arrived at various places somewhat later than would be proper. I ended up in the FNOL emergency department and was quite afraid that this time it might not turn out well. And here too, I could go on.
It’s not good and won’t be for some time. I’m now working at about 20 to 30%, still cancelling a large portion of my activities, which is still quite a lot. But let’s get to the essence…
For several years, I’ve been talking with various highly successful and less successful people about how to establish a certain balance in life. It’s hard not to notice that many people are successful (even very) and to some extent I am successful too. However, most of these somehow successful people are overworked, tired, and if you want to schedule a meeting with them or go somewhere for a chat, they look at their calendars weeks or months ahead.
Something is wrong. Very wrong.
At the same time, I’ve also noticed that, paradoxically, the truly best usually do have time. Recently, for example, I contacted a leading, internationally recognised scientist adorned with all sorts of awards, and I was shocked by how quickly everything progressed…
Within a few days, we had a video call, and because we both enjoyed it so much, we met in person about 14 days later and realised we were on the same wavelength – we enjoy doing things properly, meaningfully, and even if the grant doesn’t work out, we would do it for free (we just need to set up sustainability somehow so it doesn’t drain us).
Similarly, a few days ago. I wrote to a truly world-class scientist – currently perhaps the best in my field (recovery from recurrent depression, which people typically fail to recover from – which is or was my diagnosis as well). Again. An absolutely quick response and great willingness to meet, which I wouldn’t have expected especially from her.
Simply put, the best are probably the best partly because they are able to organise their time around true priorities and even enjoy it. A walk and sit-down in Bratislava with the first-mentioned scientist, my daughter and uncle was really lovely.
But that’s not the main message I’d like to convey. What truly terrifies me is that in many fields, people are expected to demonstrate professionalism, top performance, stable performance, never failing. And in academic environments, this is particularly absurd because salaries (at least at state universities) absolutely don’t reflect this. I sometimes like to tell students that when I manage an averagely paid one-day training in a decent corporate environment, it roughly corresponds to my monthly salary at the university. They are then quite surprised why I’m at the university (I often wonder myself, although I have my reasons and I believe they’re meaningful).
Universities are a particularly specific environment where people quite often hate each other and envy each other in the context of earnings of about 30 to 50 thousand (gross!) per month. If it were at least 150 or 200 thousand, as it is in the corporate world I occasionally work for. But as we know, the less you have, the more hatred you produce… (at least at universities, it often works like this, and not just in the Czech Republic).
This salary, however, surprisingly has nothing to do with the pressure for performance and excellence. Universities simply want everything. Excellence and performance and for free too. Similar to state television and radio. I’ve been going there for years and in the past, they at least gave me a pittance of about 2000 Czech crowns [Koruna = Czech currency]. In recent years, not even that – they say it’s my advertising. When I tell them that advertising is the last thing I need, they’re surprised. But when you have a full counselling practice and don’t know what to do first, when even the corporate world comes with requests for this or that training, etc., you really don’t need more advertising. Rather the opposite. Because when I occasionally overdo it and am too visible, then I also get more emails, phone calls, etc., and still can’t manage more.
But the pressure for performance isn’t just about universities. It’s something much more common, society-wide. I see it almost everywhere. Excellence. Excellence. Excellence. Forbes. Rankings. Citations. H-indexes. Number of likes. Number of wealthy acquaintances. Number and quality of events.
I want to deliver quality, but honestly, any rankings are completely irrelevant to me. They say absolutely nothing about my impact. I know examples of people who even received a Nobel Prize for nothing (or rather for potential that wasn’t fulfilled). And people who received smaller awards for essentially nothing are, of course, plentiful.
I want to deliver decent quality and even very good quality. But I don’t want to kill myself doing it. I don’t want to repeat my experience with the emergency department (last Friday). I don’t want to work so much anymore. I don’t want to get divorced from my beloved wife (stress and irritability don’t help). I want to take care of my body and soul. I want to continue going to the mountains, to the cottage, into nature, visiting friends, singing, dancing, playing. I don’t want to reject my children because I have too much work – they’re already so grown up that they probably won’t need me soon anyway. I want to get at least a slightly higher salary at the university, so I don’t have to be ashamed and constantly explain that I’m really not crazy for staying there and it still makes (some) sense to me. I want to finish that associate professorship [Habilitation; becoming a “Docent”], although I know it’s not a good idea – they’ll add a bit more money, but also a lot more worries. I want to work a bit less (which I manage most of the year), I want to go cycling in the afternoon (when it’s nice outside), swim in the beautiful lake we have here in Olomouc (Poděbrady), go to the sauna, watch films, read great books and occasionally write one.
I believe all this is possible. Possible if I say NO to most things. But also if the ecosystems in which I function (e.g. the university one) change a bit and understand that if they don’t give money, they must give something else – e.g. time, freedom, etc.
I believe it’s possible to have an impact on the world without going mad. And the fact that I’m primarily surrounded by workaholics who are slowly but surely heading towards ruin, I find that sad. Not like this, friends. Don’t be (like occasionally) me! Let’s try it differently. Let’s change the environments where we move (work) to less toxic ones. If we don’t succeed, it doesn’t matter. The planet doesn’t need so many people. And moreover, so many overworked, irritable people.
P.S. 1: This post hasn’t been proofread. And deliberately so! I always fine-tune articles for quite a long time, but then it takes time and drains energy for more important things – like breakfast with my children and wife. So sorry for the mistakes, definitely grammar mistakes and other imperfections.
P.S. 2: I no longer want to be perfect. I want to be human. A fallible human. Occasionally unprofessional. Occasionally irritable. Occasionally anything. I want to be like AI, which scientists and programmers try to set how imperfect it should be so that we, humans, trust it – in Czech we say dokona LOST [= perfection]. That’s what everyone demands, but no one believes it. It is easy to get lost (LOST) in perfection. I don’t want to be perfect. I want to do useful, meaningful things. Not conform to rankings and nonsensical requirements and some mythical unattainable excellence. NO to the promotion and normalisation of toxic workaholism, which not only the top of our politicians participate in, but actually the whole society.
P.S. 3: Thanks to, for example, Andrea Madarasová Gecková, Standa Ježek, Jarda Páviš, Josef Kundrát, Tereza Matějčková, Rado Masaryk, Petr Hroch, Tomáš Grim, Tomáš Nikolai, Ivo Plšek, Ivo Čermák, Katarína Millová, Vladimír Chrz, Radko Obereigneru, Stefan Berec, Jan Benda, Honza Vojtko, Pavel Rataj, Eva Klusova, Filip Tailor, Vojtěch Holický, Marta Sýkorová, Zuzana Neusarová, Petr Palarčík, Zuzana Thaiszová, Tomáš Urbánek, Adam Von Sychrow, Peter Halama, Tomáš Řiháček, Pavel Bednařík or people who left FB or were never here, like Daniel Hastík, Steriani Elavsky, Douglas Bernstein, Diane Halpern, Lukas Blinka and many others… Thanks for the inspiration, support and example that it somehow works.