I started work on a new project last week. It’s the sort of project that makes me feel fizzy on the inside and makes me wonder how on earth I’ve ended up doing the work I do. It’s inexplicable in many ways. And when someone asks me what I do for a living, I stumble, because putting what I do into a word or sentence is borderline impossible.
Anyways, I started working with a charity I love on this project around Storyteller Wellbeing. Because charities across the globe rely on rely on Storytellers to demonstrate the importance and impact of their work. But when charities ask people to share their stories, they're often asking them to relive difficult experiences and they're asking them to carry out the heavy work of emotional labour. Emotional labour may be invisible, but it's still a form of labour. It's often hard and sharp and jagged. And these encounters can be hugely impactful for Storytellers if they're not managed carefully. So we’ve set out to make sure we’re taking care of the wellbeing of those Storytellers before, during and after they tell their story. It’s really fucking cool that this charity are prioritising this and recognising that telling your story IS emotional labour. It’s such a privilege to do this work.
Outside of that project though, it’s got me thinking about emotional labour elsewhere in our lives. Emotional labour is invisible by the very nature of it - we can’t see our emotions, we feel ‘em. It’s real, often meaningful and impactful work that requires time and energy. In my work as a coach, it’s something I factor into my sessions, giving myself a buffer either side of the session, because I recognise that holding space for people requires me to give energy and I need to build that energy into the session before and replenish it after. But what about elsewhere in life? Am I as good at managing emotional labour outside of my coaching sessions? Spoiler alert: Absolutely not.
What is ‘emotional labour’? There are different definitions. It can be the invisible work of caring. Checking in on a loved one who might be having a rough time, cheering up a colleague who might be struggling, being a peacemaker between two friends, navigating tricky sibling relationships, dealing with a tantruming toddler - it’s all emotional labour - and it all adds up. Especially when we don’t check in on the toll it takes on us. Or it can be swallowing your emotions and regulating them for the sake of others.
I know I’m throwing around therapy speak like it’s confetti at a wedding and I’m wary of doing so (I’m not Jonah Hill), but I do think there’s value in recognising when the stuff that’s going on for you is draining. We recognise when we’re physically tired so I think there’s value in recognising when we’re emotionally or mentally tired too - because then we can take steps to adjust and replenish. If we’re regularly doing something that is emotionally depleting and we take notice of it, we can try to do something about it.
This week has been a tricky one for my family for reasons too complex to go into here. I have been carrying a lot of emotions around with me. And I’ve been trying to suppress them all and get on with my working week. To keep my shit together basically. I have, as a result, been completely exhausted. My husband has been working overtime on the emotional labour of keeping my buoyant in the moments when I’ve been waiting anxiously for news or navigating my own complex thoughts and feelings. I guess that’s the nature of marriage in many ways. But we’re both feeling it. We’re both doing the caring and we’re both doing the suppressing.
Recognising it though, is key to dealing with it. Years of therapy and mindfulness practice has taught me that. As soon as we notice something, we’re able to do something about it. So what are the best ways to manage or mitigate the impacts of excessive emotional labour?
Firstly - don’t belittle it. Yeah, ‘examining the emotional labour load’ might sound like therapy speak and your dick head siren might be going off, but ultimately it’s just about noticing where you’re giving excessive energy in terms of your emotions, or noticing if you’re squashing something down regularly. We can’t fix what we’re not aware of. And when you’ve clocked what’s weighing you down, figure out what you need to do about it. If you’re regularly holding your tongue at work, figure out if there’s an ally you can speak to about your issues. If you’re exhausted by a friend who always turns to you with their problems, how can you manage that situation in a way that serves you better?
Emotional boundaries are key too. If it’s possible, say no to the things that aren’t serving you. If you’re feeling pressured to do certain things, you’re more likely to feel out of control, which adds to your emotional load. Figure out what your boundaries are and stick to them.
As with pretty much everything, self care helps. One of my favourite coaching tools is an activity and mood tracker. I encourage my coaching clients to think about every activity they do from waking up in the morning to closing their eyes at night and mark what replenishes them and what depletes them. From there, they’re able to consider how to do less of what doesn’t serve them and more of what does. All too often we think of self care as big, extravagant things, but sometimes it can be as simple as remembering to drink water when you’re thirsty (cue, me right now), stand up and move your body once an hour (damn, I missed 11am) or dance around the kitchen to your favourite song. Whatever self-care means to you, if you know you’re in a time of intense emotional labour, it’s more important than ever to concentrate on the things that fill you up. The truth is, I’ve become the sort of person who gets self care by going to the gym. But also this week, I went to my favourite gym class and my heart wasn’t in it. So I left. That’s self care too.
Mindfulness is another word that’s too commonly used and feels a bit like a catchall for anything tricky. Living mindfully doesn’t have to be about meditating on the reg. If that works for you, ace. If it doesn’t, just planting your feet on the floor in the moments when things start to run away from you can be enough to bring you back to the moment. Slowing your roll and coming back to your breath with a few big deep belly breaths can help you regulate your emotions and make the pressure of all of the feelings and any emotional labour you’re carrying more manageable. Three big breaths into the belly usually does it for me.
The world is a heavy place. Life is a lot sometimes. People often think I’m like this all the time 😀😀😀 but sometimes I spend a lot of time like this 😭😭😭. And that’s alright. It’s balance innit. But learning how to manage the space between the two - that’s the sweet spot for me. And all of these things are things I’ve learned to manage it. I hope it’s helpful for you.