At least once a week a friend or family member checks in on me and asks how I am handling everything and how I am coping. Sometimes I am honest, usually I am not. At least twice a week other people tell me an analogy about putting your mask on a plane before you can help anyone else. I know burnout is real. And I know that the intensity of the last fifteen months isn’t sustainable long term, but am not sure how to find the right balance.
The part of my week that people find terrifying, live news and radio broadcasts, I enjoy. And when they are broadcast live, I never watch them back so once they are done, they are in the world and outside of my control. I don’t tend to stress about them much or get too nervous and feel that keeping women’s safety at the forefront of people’s minds is important and worthwhile.
But when you are dealing with actual women and their trauma, it is a different story. When dealing with the aftermath of a gang rape or women that are scared for their lives and the lives of their children, does it ever not shake you to the core? I find myself regularly unloading on other women that work in the same circles of activism and are hearing horror stories in their own roles and circles. We are in some ways ping ponging the trauma back and forth whilst trying to hold each other up.
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