You’re not superhuman. Stop it

The antidote to political poison might just be other people

Disclaimer: This article is produced for entertainment and informational purposes only. It is not a substitute for the help of a licensed mental health professional or therapist.

If you, or anyone you know, is struggling, seek help immediately from the Samaritans or local emergency services.

I hit my limit about three letters ago.

I knew I was getting tired.

Because I always know.

And still I sent it, anyway.

“It just wasn’t right,” I said, to a colleague. “It was missing something. I hate publishing things that are just… fine. I feel like I’ve failed my readers. Which I know isn’t true. At least, I hope it isn’t.”

And then he said something I didn’t expect.

Turning empathy into an act of strength.

“That’s great to hear,” he said. “Because it humanises you.”

You see, this has nothing to do with me, really.

And everything to do with why you’re exhausted, too.

The lie of super productivity

Getting things done feels good.

So good, in fact, that you want to keep going even if the outcome is meaningless.

Games are addictive because they admit this principle.

So it’s natural to think hard things must require hard work.

And sometimes that’s true.

Other times, you can make things harder than they need to be.

I do this all the time.

To the extent that I have a note in my digital planner that literally says, every week:

How can I make this easy?

Unfortunately, I’m infamous for ignoring my own advice.

That is, until the perspective of others makes it impossible.

Radical humanisation is the key

The pub is always too tiny to find a spot inside.

So usually, we hang about on the pavement after work.

Oftentimes, you find yourself talking to people from other offices round the corner.

“I’ve got my doubts,” she said. “You just hear them talking about trans people. All the time and - and - I mean, what if it’s true? I’m not a bigot, I promise!”

I paused.

“So, let’s park that for a second,” I said.

“I promise I’m not -”

“I know, I know,” I said. “I didn’t say you were. Let me ask you something else.

“Picture in your mind the person most likely to attack you. Do they go after people with a big bunch of friends looking out for them?”

“Well, no,” she said.

“Ever had a friend who’s lost touch when they’ve got a new boyfriend? Someone who encourages them to spend less and less time with the people they rely on?”

“I’ve definitely seen that.”

“So the question I want to ask you is this:

“Who exactly is encouraging you to separate yourself from your natural allies?

“People who claim, if nothing else, to see the world through your eyes?

“People that understand how ludicrous preferential treatment based on gender is, because they live with the absurdity every day?”

“Oh.”

And that was when I started to work on a theory:

Maybe radical humanisation is the key.

The best bit?

There’s a way to test it.

The Bridge Test

He told me that he knew, sometimes, that people said the wrong thing when talking about race.

But they didn’t mean him harm.

Phrases they’d picked up from a hysterical media.

They were trying to get to a place of genuine understanding.

And a few pints in, fortified with the confidence of not knowing much on the subject at all, I said:

Are they trying to build a bridge, or burn it?

This accidental insight took us both by surprise.

And yet, the more we talked about it, the more sense it seemed to make.

Because the point is not that we’ll get it right every time.

But the times we do, make all the difference.

In ways we can’t appreciate when we’re exhausted.

When you feel like you can’t get back up.

It’s hard because we think we’re alone.

The truth?

There’s more support than you realise.

Let your small circle save you, sometimes

Here’s the thing:

I really have been doing too much lately.

It’s important for me to recognise that.

And I wouldn’t want you to think that more is the answer.

We have permission to stop, sometimes.

Rest, sometimes.

But I believe, if you’ve invested your energy well.

If you’ve moved things forward when you can, even a step.

The momentum can carry you, a little way.

And the other people?

The ones you’ve helped.

Possess the strength to take the weight you’ve struggled to bear.

If you let them.

The only thing you can’t subtract

I want you to do less.

Fear less.

But giving in to loneliness makes that impossible.

Sometimes the fear of reaching out will silence you.

But it’s only when we admit our humanity.

And make space for others to share theirs.

That we become fearless.

And now I’m back on my feet:

Let’s get you up.

So we can stand shoulder-to-shoulder.

Perhaps a little bruised.

But human, all the same.

Warmest regards

Your author

Stuart Found

P.S. What do you do to recharge when you’ve pushed too hard? For me, it’s usually a bath, but I’m curious what pastimes restore your energy.