Workaholic Wonder Woman
By Jean Munson
All images/Jean Munson.
I thought being the world’s busiest person validated me. I thought putting together two comic anthology publications a year, planning several events, and leading networking groups was the height of success. I thought broadcasting my life on social media allowed people to know me on every level as a leader in the community. The pandemic taught me otherwise. My life, like our city of Las Vegas, operated 24 hours nonstop. While I was forced to stay indoors and sit with myself, I learned more about what I allowed my life to become, which was one of no boundaries, no self-care, no rest, and no family relationship building. I confronted my own addiction of being a workaholic. It was not pretty how much I fought myself.
In March, I was in denial about taking a back seat to my life and staying at home. In my delusional mind, I still had to plan an annual summer leadership conference, an end of the semester art show for my college students, continue organizing content for comic anthologies at my company, and plan a zine meet up. The first thing I did was cry, saturating my pillows with tears. Watching the world shut down was something I could not accept. I am such a fighter and an optimist, that I never confronted the essential part of grief and sadness. I didn’t realize how much I avoided grief in my daily life. I would always layer it with more tasks without room to process or celebrate wins in my daily life. When people thanked me or gave me recognition, I would be too busy with my head in another project to notice or accept. Reflecting at how insincere I appeared, makes me cringe. But grief taught me how to feel every moment fully. It stunted my creativity, my work ethic, and my love for connecting with people since I fought having to jump on every zoom call to explain my daily disposition. I could not sleep because being still at home brought me so much discomfort as an extrovert. I was sad at how much I shut down, as well as seeing other people around me shut down too, especially my college students for spring semester.
I had not been kind to myself those first few weeks. Journaling and making funny doodles about what happened at home with Quaran-Jean web comic brought me small comforts. When was the last time I wrote for myself? When was the last time I drew for myself? They were small but important acts for me to check in on my grief. I realized how much time I had given away while enslaving me to rigid time management with no room for my passions to come into fruition. My work as a Program Manager and Professor was inundated with ideas on how to reformat our daily work life, and a lot of that innovation was placed on me to figure a new less stressful way. In turn, I felt even more stressed on the expectation to be a fixer while I myself still grieved. How was I the strong one? I worked to brand myself this way for years only to be drowned in this identity now.
As I was becoming more accustomed to waking up late, dancing Zumba in my living room, eating home cooked meals, and texting beloved former coworkers, I learned the value of time. The pause during the pandemic taught me that I would miss these moments where I gave love to myself and those that reciprocated under the guise of a work transaction. I also became more accustomed to communicating how much I needed a break in between late night emails from work collaborations. My nightmares increased from the fear of being judged for my productivity. I woke up anxious and had trouble sleeping. At one point my inbox was literally filled with 10,000 emails. Messages from coworkers, entities with COVID-19 apologetic protocols, and ads from businesses staying afloat. I started to hyperventilate at the abyss of a never-ending inbox. Panic attacks came every night. I confronted that I was not a superhuman who could address 50 million concerns a day. I no longer wanted to subscribe to that lifestyle. When I made that decision to slow down, I treated other work colleagues with the same compassion. If they didn’t answer my messages right away, two weeks could roll by, and there was no speculative pressure on my part about their productivity. I learned to take things and people as they come.
My students’ and interns’ deadlines were filled with flexibility and time to authentically check in with me unfiltered. I encouraged communication with me to be about transparency. I would be open with my students. Even while presenting strength and encouraging them to finish work, I recognize that we are not exempt from the impacts of the pandemic. Employment and suspected sicknesses happening to them and family members really altered their ideas of work and self-compassion. I would send a phone recording, speaking to them as though we were conversing in class or in the office. I’d also send them my Quaran-Jean comic strips to display that historical moments that we live in can be recorded through a means of creativity while dually helping us release these internalized hardships. By the end of the semester, I mailed them their compiled final comic projects to humanize these new online spaces we found ourselves occupying.
But the greatest thing I learned from who I was outside versus who I am inside, was my love for my husband and our love for people. We had different modalities of being anxious. He was scared to catch it, and I was scared that the world would be changed forever. We found new ways to make each other laugh, create joy, and love despite the apocalyptic air. Before the quarantine, we both were working our day jobs, managing daily operations of our home business Plot Twist Publishing, and serving the community. He lived similarly to me, being pulled at every end to help others. We barely saw each other pre-pandemic. Being home meant being a team. While we felt the terror of toilet paper, water, and grocery shortages, we counseled each other at night after a long streaming binge of shows and consuming a comforting burrito dinner. Let’s talk about why we cannot sleep. Let’s talk about what else was said on the news. Let’s talk about anti-Asian sentiment being featured in the underlying accusations of the existing virus. Let’s talk about the casualties. Let’s talk about friends’ status updates that triggered us consciously and subconsciously. After working through our feelings, we committed to helping people in a way that did not stretch us so thin. I was still employed at the university and with the bit of money we had, we allocated money into neighboring start up establishments. We ordered from small restaurants where we were regulars, while being intentional about tipping heavy. We bought from local creatives and bookstores while posting reviews to ramp up internet traffic their way. We built a small lending library in front of our home for all the new kid bike riders and pedestrians to enjoy reading, while being tasked heavily with online learning.
I’ve resolved that even if tomorrow ended for me, I had this precious time to live fully without the anchors of validation from peers or external achievements. Understanding my ever-changing mental health with news coverage, conversations with peers, and fear-filled information pounded into me by social media; I learned how much lack of control I actually had when I was gripping for control in my workaholic life. I did not need to be Wonder Woman like I had been operating normally for the past 5 years. In my effort to retire this cape of the Workaholic Wonder Woman, I remedied my own contagion of finding self-validation in long to-do lists. We may not have a cure and answer for these times, but we can find wonder in the new things we are learning to love about ourselves and the world.
Jean Munson is founder of local comics company Plot Twist Publishing. She is an alum of the University of Nevada, Las Vegas in 2009 and has spent the last decade after graduating in activism, art, and teaching. Her primary role on campus is being the Women's Research Institute of Nevada's Program Manager running the National Education for Women's Leadership Nevada Program that was piloted from Rutgers. She is passionate about being a resource and supporter of all levels of leadership in student activism.
Thank you for visiting Humanities Heart to Heart, a program of Nevada Humanities. Any views or opinions represented in posts or content on the Humanities Heart to Heart webpage are personal and belong solely to the author or contributor and do not represent those of Nevada Humanities, its staff, or any donor, partner, or affiliated organization, unless explicitly stated. At no time are these posts understood to promote particular political, religious, or ideological points of view; advocate for a particular program or social or political action; or support specific public policies or legislation on behalf of Nevada Humanities, its staff, any donor, partner, or affiliated organization. Omissions, errors, or mistakes are entirely unintentional. Nevada Humanities makes no representations as to the accuracy or completeness of any information on these posts or found by following any link embedded in these posts. Nevada Humanities reserves the right to alter, update, or remove content on the Humanities Heart to Heart webpage at any time.