Dear conservationist, I *cracked* the code on how to actually care for myself, and I hope you can too.

Dear conservationist,

If you have read any of the other letters on this caring corner of the internet, you may have noticed that I have been struggling this year. I have been feeling guilty about the notion that many of these letters may sway towards negativity, focusing on more challenges than care. I even hid a letter I wasn’t super proud of and even acknowledged at the time of writing that my thoughts were a little bit (understatement) backward. I want to make sure these letters and this platform are helpful to people, to normalise experiences and feelings, and to leave you feeling less alone. I know that a lot of what I like to talk about involves the challenges that conservationists face, but I want to be proud of these letters, to make them relevant to others, and not too depressing. This is conservationist care, not conservationists cry. So please note that this letter does have a happy ending and I did work out how to care for myself in the end. Conservationist care- tick!

After suffering with a stomach ulcer last month, I kept making excuses as to why I couldn’t change my life in the ways I wanted to, or needed to, to restore my health. The thing about me is that I am a very logical and practical person, and so I kept moving in the direction of the most optimal life for myself *on paper* as the benchmark. When I found myself back at my family home in Adelaide, thinking that I had taken a step in the direction of care and healing, but instead, finding myself emotionally destroyed, I realised that this approach was not working for me.

Lying in my brother’s abandoned bed at 1am, I felt like a fragile shell of a human. The attributes of myself that my family tried to console me with the following day felt assigned to another Jessie, someone else, someone who was a whole egg complete with yolk and white, lodged warmly in the cloaca of a duck. I have never felt so worthless or hollow in my entire life and I was experiencing physical pains in my chest from the anxiousness I felt. Logically, my lived experiences haven’t been as bad as the abusive situations I was in earlier in my career, so by comparison they seemed to be endurable. But chest pains are scary and they led me to acknowledge that my mental and physical health was declining so rapidly that I could not continue my thin shell era any longer. It is embarrassing for me to admit, considering my position on avoiding burnout as a conservationist, but I soon realised that I was the most burnt out that I had ever been, yet I was trying to plow through my life as if I was healthy.

With the chest pains came the shifting of the bar. From what was the persuit of an optimal life, now became the persuit of a life that will keep me alive. Reframing my thoughts to this minset was honestly the best decision I could have made and it prioritised caring for myself above anything else. It also brought a new light to my situation- if I appeared into my life as a videogame character in this moment and had the money that I have in the bank, my living situation, resources and support network- what would I do with all of this inventory to make my character happier and healthier? The next day I called my doctor and asked for two weeks sick leave to buy me some time while I started my caring journey.

Very quickly into my leave, I realised that I needed to rip my whole life out from its foundations and start breaking some fragile, shattering shells in hopes that I could create somewhat of a beautiful omelette with my life. This prospect seemed scary, but I knew I needed to make some serious changes for the sake of my health and wellbeing. Not making any changes suddenly felt even scarier.

The first thing that needed to break was my job. It has been one of the core factors that has been impacting my health and so it needed to go. Before, in optimal life land, I could have got a new job or I could have reduced my hours before quitting, and I had explored these options to no avail. Now, with my new benchmark, it felt imperative to my health for me to hand in my month’s notice and finish up. As the sole income earner for my household in a cost-of-living crisis, this seems logically, like a terrible decision. Luckily for me, my frugal conservationist habits meant that I have some money saved and that I will most likely be okay. I also have no shame in taking a manual labour job to earn money if I need to, and my brain was so fried that just moving my body didn’t seem that bad. This acceptance cemented my decision.

I also thought that I wanted to study island ecology again or get an island conservation job, and I had to break this notion too. I don’t need to work, study or volunteer to go to an island, I am, it turns out, worthy of just holidaying on one. To ensure that I did commit to leaving my job at the end of my sick leave and to make sure I had something to go to to help me connect back with myself, rest and recuperate, I booked myself a month in Fiji. It was cheap to get there, the timezones are similar to Eastern Australia, and I can still do my speaking commitments from there. I organised a very rogue trip around staying in places with wifi for the times where I need to present, and making sure I could bird, snorkel and connect back to community and nature in a relaxing way. In the beginning, I had to try really hard to break old habits, I found myself scouring LinkedIn to see if there were any conservationists worth working with, perusing volunteer opportunities, and falling into the trap of trying to make my holiday a time of work. But I was strong and committed myself to resting and getting better as my priority.

In an unexpected twist, my burnout also helped me to reorganise my priorities in other aspects of my life. I realised that no matter what was going on in my life, I was always going to make time for conserving conservationists. I had been talking to some supervisors about engaging in a transdiciplanary PhD project and I realised that instead of island ecology, my research should focus around improving conditions for conservationists. This way, I’d have the support, time, and funding to work on what I’m already working on, without creating more responsibilities to juggle. I have found a University that aligns with my more communal and inclusive way of being and doing and that hasn’t hit me with any academic red-flags so far. It may be so that I don’t get accepted into the program, but even so, having this realisation was important for me to work on streamlining my efforts so that I can avoid bouts of future burnout. I have also been really proud of the way that I have been advocating for my needs and sharing my concerns from the beginning, which has also confirmed that the people I am speaking to are supportive and understanding of helping me achieve research goals with my health and wellbeing in mind.

Initially, I thought I’d be left terrified of my future after breaking up so many major aspects of my life, but the truth is that I feel nothing but relieved. After making these three changes, I felt my zest, motivation and vigour for life return and I have felt a calm pour over me that I have never felt before. I am finally stopping my reactive tendancies of moving on to the next thing in a rushed state, and am waiting to recover before determining my next steps. The crazy thing is, is that I am okay with this and I feel confident about my decisions and how they are making me feel. Despite contracting Covid at the end of my two weeks leave and sounding nasaly congested on the phone, my boss told me that he has never heard me sound so good, and that he knows I must be doing well. Everyone at work has been so supportive and understanding of my decision to leave and I am really grateful for their kind words and wishes.

Through advocating for myself these past few weeks, I have internalised how loved I am, how valuable I am outside of productivity, and that I know I’ll be okay. These are three facts that eggshell Jessie didn’t believe, but I now know to be true. It turns out that holding on to perfect eggs leads them to rot inside, so you may as well crack them open and make way for a delicious omellete to be created. Worst case scenario, you just scramble the yolks or add some milk and flour to make a cake. Either way, eggs are reassuring reproductive cells and so I must thank them for being the perfect metaphor for this journey that I’m on.

I almost didn’t tell this story as I am hyper aware of the privilege that I have to be able to quit my job and run away to Fiji. I have no kids to look after, no parents to send money to, and I can afford the roof over my head (though rented). I also acknowledge that if I didn’t make these decisions for myself, I could continue to degrade my physical and mental wellbeing and become at risk of causing irreversible damage to myself.

I wanted to share this story because, since pulling apart my life and rearranging it, I feel like a better, stronger, more self assured person. I don’t feel like my value, health or wellbeing is reliant on, or in the hands of anyone else. Finally, I have been able to internalise all of the messaging that I share in these letters and feel the benefits of what it means to actually care for yourself as a conservationist. Caring for yourself is a hard and scary process, but knowing that I’m willing to do something to hard and scary for myself is very reassuring at the same time.

I don’t know what will come of my life in the next few months and thats okay, I am sure I will work it out as I go. But just know that if you feel like you’ve hit your physical and emotional rock bottom- there is a way out. You might feel like a shell, but you can break that shell open and make something better for yourself. There are resources, support networks and opportunities available for you to seek help. You are not alone.

Jessie