Stop Trying to Set the World on Fire

A mindset shift to prevent burnout.

Photo by Gaelle Marcel on Unsplash

Everything is closed. Life is cancelled. In addition to your regularly scheduled responsibilities, you must now homeschool your feral children. Oh, and don’t forget, people are dying and scientists are disagreeing and politicians are being extra politician-y and businesses are suffering and your spouse is, like, always. right. there. and none of us know when this is going to end.

Now get to work, you lazy asshole.

Sound familiar?

By this point, you must have read some bullshit article about how Shakespeare and Newton completed revolutionary work while under quarantine. The author likely encouraged you to view this time of mandated social isolation as an opportunity to make real strides in your work. Reading this probably left you burning up with shame as you trudged over to the fridge in your “house shoes” to see if something new (perhaps wine?) magically appeared since the last time you looked. Three minutes ago. Before you read the article.

Let’s get real here for a minute. Shakespeare and Newton were brilliant thinkers. Living hundreds of years ago. And men. Blissfully unencumbered men.

These times are strange, and it’s not fair for any of us to compare ourselves to these men. But especially — and I cannot stress this enough — if you’re an ambitious mother of small children.

But how do we quiet the inner voice when she’s telling us to do more?

Shouldn’t We Just Quit?

A few years ago, I was faced with a huge shift in identity when I left Big Law for the greener pastures of At Home. The transition was not smooth.

When I worked at a huge law firm, productivity was my queen. Long hours, all accounted for in six minute increments, were a badge of honor. And paychecks. Oh, paychecks! Sweet, calculable validation that what I was doing had value.

Stay-at-home motherhood, I found, offered none of this. And the long, unstructured days of nothingness were not a great fit for my hard-charging personality. The mindless tasks lined up, one after the next. Nothing to do unless I put it on the calendar. No one praising me for working 24 hour days. And payment for services. Uh? Excuse me?

Imagine my delight when I uncovered my love for creative writing. My soul and my mind woke up simultaneously. I started writing a novel during my son’s naps. I had all of these things I wanted to write. All of these things I wanted to say. I was ready to set the world on fire.

And yet.

Even though my head was on fire in the best way possible, I was still a mom at home. There was never enough time to work. I was suffering greatly. For certain personalities, I think, there is pain associated with not being able to set the world aflame. Especially when you know there’s a version of yourself buried deep inside who used to be able to go faster, harder, stronger.

Quitting seemed to be the right thing to do. “Just for now,” I’d say. Won’t there a better time? Wouldn’t it be less painful if I waited until the kids were in school. Then I could really go for it. Unencumbered. Fire blazin’.

But the thought of quitting was painful, too. Wouldn’t I feel awful, day-to-day, if I wasn’t working on something? How much more painful would it be to start again in a few years, knowing I’d done nothing in the intervening years to improve my craft?

Wallowing around in this pain for a while and repeatedly asking myself these questions led me to a simple solution. Slow down. Be easy. Stop trying to set the world on fire. Do a little bit, each day, and it will add up to something. Eventually.

A Label for a Strange Season

Instead of quitting, I came up with a label for this season of my life. I call it The Kindling Phase. If I remember there will be another time and place to set the world on fire, that this is just a season, I feel better.

Every morning when I sit down to write, I light a candle. The flame signals to my brain that it’s time to work and I think of my mantra.

This is your kindling phase. You’re a mom, at home, with two little kids. If your goal is to set the world on fire, you’re going to burn out. Just keep that flame alive.

When my kid interrupts my writing session, I stare one last time at the unfinished manuscript on my screen. Some days, I might try to grasp the nebulous thought I feel sucking back into the ether. Or I might let it go, close my computer, blow out the candle and remember I’ll be back tomorrow, at least for a little bit. And I’ll do the same thing. Again and again. Little bits, here and there. Keeping myself aflame.

During this strange, unprecedented season, I encourage you to dump your high expectations so you aren’t tempted to quit on yourself completely. There’s no reason to burn out right now, either with too much work or too much shame and self-loathing for not working enough.

Keep chucking in a bit of kindling every now and then. Keep your flame alive.

You’ll be setting the world on fire again soon enough.