We can become bone-tired.
Turn into withered versions of ourselves.
All of us, those in the office and those on the fields.
But those in the office, often the more privileged have the luxury of having tiredness labelled. We pathologise our exhaustion as chronic fatigue syndrome and call it burnout or yuppie flue. We become a psychological or psychiatric problem. For the majority, tiredness is just part of life – you come home, cook supper, get up in the early hours of the morning and commute to work. In-between you cry, dance, laugh and visit friends.
People and their bodies became raw material during the industrial revolution of the 18th century. Exhaustion was already shaped by society as an illness in 1869. Since then our bodies became part of the production line, our brain likened to a computer and when we are overloaded, the image is of a battery that needs to be recharged to function at optimal capacity and deliver the goods. We do not easily tolerate vulnerability.
I do not minimise the impact of extreme exhaustion, especially for those continuously exposed to the trauma of others. The effects are real, likened to Secondary Traumatic Stress Disorder (STSD). But medication, withdrawal, self-care strategies and returning to the same treadmill only go so far. Lack of support and social isolation is a risk factor. There should be a shift from rampant individualism to collective care, to connection. For centuries humans lived in groups of 40-150 people. In the 1500s the average European family consisted of about 20 people whose lives were intimately connected on a daily basis. In the 1850s an average family consisted of 10 people living in close proximity. In the 1960s it was reduced to 5 people, and in the 21st century to 4 people with 26% living alone in some societies. Rampant individualism poses people without any relationships as healthier than those with many. This contradicts fundamental human biology: humans are social mammals that only survived because of deeply interconnected and interdependent human contact.
This is where Ubuntu as narrative principle comes in (https://bodytheology.co.za/2018/10/17/ubuntu-and-the-body-as-narrative-principles/). The quintessence is that one’s humanity is dependent upon one’s relationship with others. Our humanity is intertwined with our colleagues in the workplace and our family at home. We should care more. An ethic of care suggests that how we act in an organisation is inherently connected to who we are as parents, children, friends, and family members. It connects people’s work to their broader lives in ways that go beyond traditional ideas of how work and family impact each other. An ethic of care has the potential to explore all the dimensions of care and empathy in organisations. It’s not about recharging someone’s battery – it’s about restoring a person’s humanity.
St Irenaeus of Lyon growing up in Smyrna on the west coast of Turkey during the 2nd century AD, wrote that “The glory of God is the human person fully alive”. We owe it to ourselves to be fully alive, to flourish as we allow others to flourish.