I’ve always thought of myself as ‘resilient’. For years, I thought that meant being the type who would ‘grin and bear it’ to complete an important task. I particularly remember the 36h non-stop writing marathon to finish my PhD thesis, and tolerating 20 job rejections and a disruptive relocation to secure a PI position. These caused hardship too, but I’d push aside negative emotions to get on with it.
So here’s the surprise – I no longer call that ‘resilient’! I call it ‘short-term’ thinking. I see the success it brought but I also see its cost: to wellbeing, to family and, on numerous occasions, even to productivity. I still believe lasting success needs seriously hard work, but is that much pain inevitable or is there another, healthier way? A more sustainable form of resilience?
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Many of us dislike not having time to explore all our ideas. For as long as each of us can remember, we’ve wanted to figure out how things work and whether we can make them work better. So here’s the problem: there are an infinite number of things to figure out but only 24 hours in a day. Having more ideas than we can follow is normal! Why then do so many of us feel bad about ideas we don't get around to? Think how awful the opposite would be: to finish our ‘to do’ list and have no ideas for anything else! We’re not just overwhelmed with ideas of course. It’s also emails, administration, peer reviewing, requests for favours, information, and even keeping up with the scientific literature. Many of us would like less of some of these to leave more time for research but that perfect world doesn't exist. For each of these areas of work, the same principle applies:
Infinite demands meets finite capacity. So why does it feel so awful if we can't do it all? If you are one of the 10-15% of people who claim they don’t procrastinate, stop reading and go and do whatever you’re avoiding! Anyone else, congratulations on your honesty! That’s a good start. What we tell ourselves Here’s how it works with me. Tasks I procrastinate over are typically big (grant applications, papers), boring (administration), or not obviously beneficial to me or my team (reviewing). The conversation in my head starts: “I must get on with this, I’m feeling really guilty holding someone else up”. Or: “If I don’t start soon, I’ll end up super-stressed doing it at the last minute, so why can’t I just do it?”. The answer comes back: “I need a clear mind first and I won’t have that until I’ve got these other niggling tasks out of the way. Otherwise, I’ll worry about people chasing me for them”. Or: “I’m here to do science, not administration. Filling in that form is just depressing!”. How about you? Similar thoughts? Others?
“Terrifying!”. That’s the word I hear most from ECRs considering a tenure track job offer. They, like most of us, once sat in a PhD interview saying this is exactly what they wanted. So what explains this reaction when it becomes reality? We all find something scary. I feel it when chairing a meeting or pursuing a big new opportunity. Many people, inside and outside science, fear public speaking. And whose heart doesn’t beat faster on reading the email subject line “Decision on your manuscript”? Why? And what does it do to us? We love science but not the stuff that comes with it: all those events that trigger anguish, insecurity, overwhelm and frustration. The failed experiments, short-term contracts, spiralling administrative demands and reviewers who just don’t seem to get it. How can we keep a clear mind with all that going on?
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AuthorProfessor Michael Coleman (University of Cambridge): Neuroscientist and Academic Coach: discovering stuff and improving research culture ArchivesCategories |