Like a meer cat

Petra's meer cat

My adopted German grandmother, Petra, loves giving things away. If she likes it, she likes giving it to someone else even more. Recently, she gave me a postcard with a picture of a meer cat and the caption (in German) "I'm breathing. It's not going to get any more productive than that today."

Friends, I have been like that meer cat this weekend, because after leading a team in the Arctic for two weeks, I am tired.

Over the past several years, I've had to learn the value of rest. Of taking time off to be human. I'm pretty good about connecting with the communities around me and celebrating friends' accomplishments; these things help me connect to my humanity. I create art. I entertain visitors. I use natural lulls in my work to breathe and reconnect to the world around me.

But in the past year, since I started my tenure-track position at WHOI, I've realized those strategies aren't going to cut it anymore. If I wait for a natural gap in my work before letting myself take a break, I'll never find one. There's always something to do. If I wait for a special event to allow myself some time off, I'll be waiting a long time. There are fewer landmarks on the tenure track, and frankly, even my transition into it felt like a mere blip.

I've noticed a shift in my thinking, too. I'm much more achievement-focused now. I constantly wonder if what I'm doing is good enough. Reality is, I have 4 years to prove myself to my institution, and then I'll either be promoted or let go. I know on an intellectual level that I do my best work when well-rested, but at the same time, I feel guilty any time I unplug.

I think this most recent Svalbard trip served as a lightbulb moment for me. Science will take everything I am willing to give and them some. I put a lot of effort into my job - late nights, early mornings, time away from my family, the proverbial blood, sweat, and tears. I could put infinite effort into the pursuit of knowledge, and there would still be work to do.

I am learning that I must plan my breaks in order to survive in this job. I must be aggressive in my self-care and militant in my boundaries. Science is hard, and I am only human.

A lone scientist working late at night in the lab, pushing themselves beyond all physical limits - that's not how discoveries are made. That's how supervillians are created. Scientific discoveries are made in the light of day, by well-rested, healthy, grounded people. (Or, just as frequently, by a couple colleagues scribbling on a bar napkin, but that's a topic for another post.)

This weekend, I will be a human. Just like that meer cat.