One of the more memorable, if improbable, scenes from Peter Jackson’s “The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies,” is when Legolas is battling his archenemy Bolg on a fallen tower that begins to crumble underneath him. In his own physics-defying, elfish way, he starts running up the blocks as they fall to the chasm below.
Recently, I shared a GIF of this scene with a friend to depict my current life and schedule. His response was a lighthearted “lol,” to which I replied, “No. Not ‘lol,’ unfortunately. It’s neither healthy nor sustainable.”
Since January, it’s felt like I’ve been running non-stop: juggling too many professional commitments, the start of classes, a sick dog, and my wife’s carpal tunnel surgery. Although I acknowledge that much of this busyness is self-induced—especially the professional commitments at and outside of Denison—I’m reminded of early career advice from a mentor who said, “Just do it!” He argued that seizing every opportunity, no matter how small, could lead to something bigger. After a successful career spanning 25 years, he had examples to prove it.
However, I’ve learned that, akin to that all-you-can-eat breakfast smorgasbord in Bergen, there can indeed be too much of a good thing. While each of my activities and choices may make sense individually, collectively they’ve become overwhelming. After the third consecutive weekend consumed by work, I realized the importance of starting to say “no.”
I am fortunate to be at a privileged stage in my career: I’m a full professor with a reduced course load, our nest is empty, and I have a very supportive partner. Let’s not even mention the free pass I get with students because I look like a “professor” – a balding white male with a beard.
Being in this position, it’s important for me to model good behavior. I’m happy to report that I recently exercised this power of “no.” You might have noticed a change in the format of the GLCA’s News of the Week, now on MailChimp—a change driven partly by my desire to make this resource more accessible and impactful.
I had agreed to write a piece for its new version, set to launch on January 31. When the draft arrived in my inbox on January 30, I realized I had missed my deadline. Determined to make up for it, I committed to writing a piece for the February 3 publication. I doubled down, convinced I could deliver, but as the new deadline approached, I found myself too mentally and physically drained to follow through. Rather than burning the midnight oil on Wednesday or rising before dawn on Thursday, I simply said no.
Part of me was anxious about not putting the new format forward on its best foot during this ideal time, but then I pondered: what would really happen if I didn’t write it? The weekly post would still go out, the GLCA would continue, and life would go on. It was okay for me to say no.
As I write this, I am tempted to bolster my claims with an article from The Chronicle or The Atlantic about our overworked lives. But to this, too, I say no. I wager that my experience resonates with many of you, who may not enjoy the status of full professor or are managing large households among other responsibilities.
So, give it a try. Review your schedule. Is there something small you could drop, even just for this week? What would happen if you didn’t do that thing? The world won’t end. The work will still be there. But you? You might just breathe a little easier, feel a little lighter, and reclaim a piece of yourself in the process. That is worth saying ‘yes’ to.