volunteerplaintalk

Tag: coping at work

  • When All You See is Stress

    We are coping with a new normal that creates additional stress on already overburdened volunteer managers. Constant change and adaptation wears your psyche down like balding tires on a cross-country trip. You get no traction; only tires spinning and clouds of that toxic burning rubber smell. Your hard work is on hold. Volunteers are not getting the benefits of volunteering. People are not receiving the loving care from volunteers.

    A recent report from Reset 2020 (https://probonoaustralia.com.au/news/2020/08/new-report-uncovers-covid-19-mental-health-toll-on-nfp-sector/ ) indicates 28% of respondents say staff and volunteer mental health and well-being is impacted by the crisis. And when volunteers’ mental health is impacted, volunteer managers’ mental health is impacted.

    I don’t have some magic pill answer. Sometimes you just have to stop fighting and feel the feelings. (and remember, I am not a mental health counselor, just someone who’s also experienced burnout and dejection and stress).

    When struggling, I would find that fighting the burnout was more exhausting than experiencing it. I found that constantly berating myself for “having those feelings” crushed me. Instead, I began to let my understandably human emotions play out. I’d crawl into the feelings, turn them over, and verbalize how crappy everything was. I’d let the feelings run rampant.

    Then, after I rolled around in the negativity for a bit, something interesting would happen. I’d start to look at challenges without the crushing weight of burnout. Things didn’t seem so bleak. Sure, they were still hard, but they moved into a new perspective.

    I think we, volunteer managers tend to deny our negative feelings because we’re always “on.” We’re looked at as cheerful people with can-do attitudes and we don’t think we can have bad days. But we can. Because we’re human and our human-ness is what makes us so darned effective.

    Our human-ness allows us to empathize, to focus, to sincerely care. It makes us weep, and laugh, act silly and deeply serious. It leads us to connect and retain that connection as if invisible fibers radiated from our bodies to those around us.

    But it also gives us resilience. It gives us the will to get back up. It shows us that life is not always pretty or fun or good. We see the joys and the tragedies as we walk besides fellow travelers in the journey.

    We know that the human experience is filled with wonder, disaster, sadness and light. We know it is as varied as drifting snowflakes, and as vast as drops of ocean water.

    Our jobs require feeling.

    Sometimes we have to feel for ourselves

    -Meridian

  • I Give 100%, No 125%, No, Wait More Like 200%!

    percents

    “I’m close to quitting, just walking out,” Ruby, a wispy volunteer manager says tersely. “And so are some of the other staff at my organization. I don’t know, I just feel like I have to sacrifice everything for my job. Now, whether or not I feel that because of a certain culture in my organization or if it is just self-imposed, I don’t know. But what I do know is that I feel inadequate when I choose a family outing over a fundraising event on a Saturday or when I feel that I deserve more compensation. And what’s worse is I feel so incredibly guilty having these feelings. I mean, does managing volunteers mean I forsake any and all personal life and needs?”

    Well, duh, Ruby. Or wait, does it? Once you’ve “become” a volunteer manager, does everything personal just fade away into this nirvana of blissful martyrdom?

    Coincidently, a recent article on overworked non-profit workers published in Atlantic Magazine addresses this very idea and one of the interview quotes from this article is:

    “The unspoken expectation is that you do whatever it takes to get whatever it is done for the people who you’re serving,” she says. “And anything less than that, you’re not quite doing enough.” Timm, Jonathan.  “The Plight of the Overworked Nonprofit Employee.”  The Atlantic Aug 24, 2016

    Do we, in the non-profit world sometimes wear our “commitment” like a badge of devotion on our chests? Do we secretly lap up the comments like cans of energy drinks when telling people what we do for a living? “Oh, you’re so selfless,” “I could never do that work,” “thank goodness for people like you.”

    Do we subtly feel this martyr attitude and does that translate into a self-sacrifice that is simmering under our weary feet waiting to burst into burn out? Do we feel guilty when we look at our colleagues who we imagine are selflessly working more and therefore care more? Does a nagging voice whisper, “If this is your calling, then how dare you complain (or ache or fall ill or blink)?”

    So,  are we afraid to voice the following concerns to our superiors for fear of being selfish?

    Asking for more resources (how dare we-precious money and resources need to go to the mission)

    Mindfulness about overwork (if I don’t keep going, someone, somewhere won’t benefit)

    Planning vacations, family time (family will just have to understand, THIS is more important than their needs)

    Needing help with stress over working with tragedy (How can I possibly complain, heck, I have it pretty good compared to the clients I see)

    Asking for a raise (Could I be any more selfish?)

    When the hard stuff, like not enough understanding of what volunteer managers do, or too many requests from too many departments and no way to prioritize, or challenges with staff, or no perceived support starts to whittle away at your commitment, then burnout begins.

    When we are embarrassed or afraid of asking for the help we need, we aren’t just doing a disservice to ourselves, we are actually hurting our volunteers and the very people we are here to help because we will not be any good to them if we are resentful or burned out.

    So, if you have to, tell yourself that asking for the help you need is really about providing the best volunteer management for your clients and volunteers. Frame your requests to your superiors in that way: “In order to provide the best for our clients and volunteers, I will need….”

    Because your “calling” is not to be a martyr, it’s to be a leader.

    -Meridian

     

  • Soulplasty

    up periscopeI didn’t make an appointment to repair my soul, because I really never stop to think that I need it. Every morning, I can see in the mirror how a face lift would go a long way to erase crinkling lines, but my soul, well it’s hard to see, at least in the daytime.
    So, when, Hannah, a volunteer who roams the floor of a hospice care center came and got me, I wasn’t thinking about going under life’s knife, but then you have to know Hannah.
    So quiet, she sometimes melts into the carpet, Hannah, at just over 5 feet tall, is like a submarine in shallow water. Her radar is spot on and in between her torpedo jokes, she gets to the heart of a patient and family. When Hannah summons you to “see this” you’d better believe it’s beyond cute or nice or lovely. It’s soulplasty. She summoned me on Monday to hear about a terminally ill man in one of the rooms. “I’ve been invited to be in on the ceremony,” she said as if I knew what the heck she was talking about.
    “What ceremony?” I asked.
    “The wedding.”
    “Wedding? Who’s getting married?”
    “He is, the patient, George.”
    “Oh, wow, who is he marrying?”
    “His live in girlfriend. I’m waiting for the chaplain.”
    It didn’t surprise me that Hannah would be included in something so personal, so intimate, so life altering. She has this way of entering a room. She arrives, testing the emotional temperature with her eyes and ears, and becomes a part of the scene. She doesn’t throw out pleasantries, she’s all business and that business is the family in front of her. Her demeanor says, “I’m here and I’m all in no matter what’s going on.”
    Our chaplain arrived. I really wanted to ask to join the group, but of course that would be about me and not about the patient so I picked at a piece of peeling wallpaper down the hall waiting to hear.
    Hannah came out a short time later and nodded to me. It was done. I got some coffee and waited for Hannah to join me at a table in the lounge. She sat down and unwrapped her very long very chic scarf as if removing a part of a uniform.
    “How did it go?” I asked.
    She sat for a moment, processing and then spoke. “It was really good, he’s barely able to speak now, but he got the words out. He told her what he needed to say.” She choked up a bit and stopped. I could only just sit there and try to grab the emotions filling the room.
    “What about his wife?”
    Hannah smiled. “She positively glowed.” She twirled her scarf in her hand. “This was the one thing he insisted on, the one thing he had to do before he died.”
    “Was it for a religious reason?” I gently asked.
    “No.” She paused and sipped her coffee thoughtfully. “He didn’t do it out of guilt, or responsibility, or some social expectation, he did it because for him, it was his own personal responsibility laid bare. It was out of pure love.”
    We both grew quiet. Then Hannah said, “Do you ever get a moment when everything seems to make sense?”

    Yes, I actually do.
    Yesterday I spent the day helping honor veterans for veterans day. As I stood in the cold room of a Navy Pilot, he softly said, “I can’t tell you how much this means to me.” Tears filled his eyes, and he shakily reached for my hand. I got close and felt his weakening life through his grip. He looked up at me and for a moment everything melted away, the room, the facility, the world. I could feel the battles, now distant, the coming home, the hard work, the family and friends, the joys and the heartaches. His voice, just a whisper now held the power of eternity.

    It is this reparation of soul, whether we feel it firsthand or through the stories of our volunteers that give us sustenance. It is the interconnectedness of human to human to human and on that makes us do what we do.
    I’m taking my newly repaired soul back to work and know that it will get battered with stress and challenges. But, at least I also know that another moment of soulplasty will come my way just when I don’t know I need it.
    -Meridian

  • The Mass That Lurks Beneath the Surface

    iceberg I’m not telling you anything new when I say we all want our volunteers to be acknowledged and appreciated. We all want our volunteers to be treated with respect and looked at as integrals members of our teams. We all want volunteers to be thought about as contributors, not extra little worker bees. So, when that happens, are we, volunteer managers, not completely satisfied? Are we done? (Finally, the volunteers are treated as equals, I can stop clenching my teeth!)
    Hmmm, if the answer is a hesitant no, what more do we want? (Besides world peace of course)
    So let’s take a little trip if you will and look in at a volunteer manager, Josh sitting at his desk, answering phones, solving problems, listening to stories, making placements, (fine, for brevity’s sake, I won’t list all of the tasks going on) and a staff member wanders into his office. (for giggles, let’s say, a member of senior management) “Wow,” the senior manager says, ” I have to tell you, Ellen is such a great volunteer, she really did an excellent job last week. What a gem she is, you’re really lucky to have her!”  Josh immediately smiles, looks up and agrees, “Yes, she is wonderful, thank you so much for acknowledging her contribution, I will certainly pass that along to her.”
    The senior manager walks away, mentally patting herself on the back for praising a volunteer. There, now everyone’s happy, right?
    Well, yes, but Josh has this nagging little feeling that not everyone and everything has been properly acknowledged. For him, there is a back story to that praise. Now, don’t get me wrong, we are all thrilled to hear our volunteers receive praise. So, then, what is that invisible behemoth of a back story lurking beneath the surface?
    In the case of volunteer Ellen, what that senior manager did not know is that Ellen at first spent three months questioning whether volunteering was right for her. Josh allowed Ellen to observe other volunteers in action, invited her to educational in-services and arranged for Ellen to have her own volunteer mentor. Josh spent hours on the phone encouraging and motivating Ellen in order to give her exactly what she needed to feel comfortable. Although swamped with requests, Josh focused in the moment and saw in Ellen the potential to be a great volunteer. So when praise for Ellen also includes the phrase, “you’re lucky to have her,” Josh invariably remembers all his efforts beneath the surface.
    Some volunteers are naturally great, some quickly develop into great volunteers and others need more mentoring. It is as much an art to recognize the volunteer who needs little mentoring as it is to find the right way to mentor a volunteer who is unsure. The yin and yang of volunteer management is a nuanced role that takes the eye of an artisan who dabbles in human potential.
    When major events go off with no major problems, it’s the volunteer manager who has spent the time calling and recalling volunteers so that they know all the little things like where to park, whether they’ll need to bring water or sunglasses, the proper dress, directions to the event, who to check in with, where the bathrooms are located, and what they will be expected to do. All that work is never seen, only the fact that volunteers are on time and prepared.
    Beneath the surface there’s all the time spent hearing volunteer concerns and the follow through in correcting a wrong or getting an answer. Beneath the surface, there’s all the work behind the scenes everyday that volunteer managers do, like dropping everything when a potential volunteer walks in off the street, skipping lunch to visit a volunteer in the hospital, staying late because a student needs papers signed to prove they’ve volunteered, looking up airline tickets for a volunteer who’s computer is broken, making a fuss over grandchildren who have come to visit, going with a volunteer to a doctor’s visit because her daughter lives in another town, looking at pictures of a trip when a report is due, saving that book for a volunteer who loves the same author, framing pictures of volunteers as gifts for their families, and bringing in garden flowers to share.
    Beneath the surface of any excellent volunteer program is a volunteer manager who cares enough to work tirelessly with a mixture of raw gut instinct, mother hen tendencies and a passion for human potential. That tip of the iceberg did not poke through the water on its own for it is supported by a massive base of cultivation, patience, persistence and old fashioned sweat.
    So, once we get the respect and acknowledgement for our volunteers down and once we are comfortable knowing that our organizations will always treat our volunteers with respect, then maybe we can start working on some recognition for our contributions and our everyday efforts.
    It’s a lot to hope for, but I can dream big, as big as that iceberg base, can’t I?
    -Meridian

  • The Disaster Clean Up Crew

    clean up crewMeg is a volunteer coordinator for a large health care system that specializes in patient rehabilitation. Her volunteers are involved in several programs, from spiritual care, and palliative listening to working with dementia patients. Meg is the lead volunteer coordinator with twelve years of experience. Recently, the marketing department contacted Meg and told her that they wanted “some volunteers” to be filmed in a short infomercial.
    “They didn’t give me a date nor time and place,” she said. “I emailed them repeatedly for concrete directions, but I never got an answer. Finally, one of the marketing staff. Gwen, came down at 4pm on a Wednesday and said they were ready to shoot Friday at 9am in our location. What do you need? I asked her and she told me they wanted volunteers working with a mock patient in a rehab room.”
    Meg sighed. “Gwen did however ask for our pet therapy volunteer, Sam, who owns Polo, a beautiful golden retriever. Gwen told me she loved that dog and how beautiful the dog would look on camera. So, I spent most of my Thursday pleading with volunteers to come to the shoot.”
    Meg paused. “You know how volunteers are. The don’t want to be on camera. But I got six volunteers, including Sam to agree to come in and be filmed.
    Friday came and I arrived early,” Meg continued. “I had fruit and coffee set up for the volunteers. They began arriving, Sam and Polo, Jerri who does amazing work journal keeping with patients, Clive and Betty, a couple who sing to patients, Jeravani, an international student who is studying physical therapy and Amelia, a volunteer who specializes in art. They were a great mix of volunteers. I gave a lot of thought to how volunteers would present on camera and I have to admit, this was a diverse group of excellent representatives. I was thinking the infomercial might encourage others to volunteer.”
    Meg went on, “9 arrived and we waited and then 9:30 and still we waited. I could see the volunteers checking their watches. They had places to be. At about 10, Gwen found us and said they were ready to start filming. Biting my tongue, I stood up and waved my hand over the group of fantastic volunteers sipping coffee and started to introduce them, but she stopped me and very nonchalantly said that the crew was behind schedule and that there was only time for, as she put it, ‘the dog shot.’”
    I could feel the anger and frustration in Meg’s voice and she went on, “I looked at Gwen, stunned. I motioned for her to join me outside the room, out of earshot of the volunteers. You mean our volunteers came in for nothing? And Gwen basically said, ‘we don’t have time for any extra shots because we already have more than enough. Sorry, just tell them thank you and maybe another time.’”
    Meg snorted an angry laugh. “yeah, I wanted to say, why don’t YOU tell them and why don’t YOU apologize profusely and why don’t YOU waste half a day trying to cajole people for nothing? No, you get to walk away, damage done and think nothing of it.” Meg stopped to take a breath. “It just makes me so angry!”
    Meg recharged. “Then, get this! Sam and Polo? Oh yeah, after I say goodbye and sorry to all the other volunteers, I find Sam and Polo in a mock-up patient room and one of the crew is being filmed holding Polo’s leash! I lost it. I went to Gwen and demanded to know what was going on. She kinda shrugged and said that the film crew set it up that way so for once in my life I stood my ground and said no. I told her that if Sam was not in the shot, then I was going to send them home. I was so mad, I didn’t care.”
    I could feel the anger balloon about to burst. “Gwen intervened though and Sam was filmed with Polo. So, at least I won a minor battle.”
    Then Meg grew philosophical, the way long time volunteer managers grow. “I wish our volunteers were given the same respect as others in our hospital system. No one would waste the CEO’s time. No one would be so cavalier about marketing’s time. But volunteers? They are a commodity. It’s wrong, just wrong. Although, it did feel so good to stand up for Sam. In fact, it felt great.”
    Meg’s voice changed, lifted somehow. “In fact, I think I’ll start doing that more.” The old spark in her voice returned. “Yeah, stand up for what’s right, what do I have to lose? And, maybe, just maybe, I’ll stop being the clean up crew.”
    -Meridian

  • What Do Our Desks Say About Us?

    deskOne of the steady stream of little articles that I just got via my work email (you know all the “stuff” you get, especially from volunteers-old age funnies, dog pictures, IQ tests, heartwarming stories, riddles, cartoons, even the occasional inappropriate joke) was an article on desks. What does your desk say about you? Hmmmmmm. Messy? Maybe you’re too disorganized. Inspirational quotes? Maybe you’re a bit neurotic. Personal odd objects? Maybe you’re a kook. Occasional protein bar wrappers? Maybe you’re a slob. Old mismatched furniture? Maybe you don’t care.
    Now here’s the best part. Any of the above can keep you from being taken seriously and being promoted.
    Well.
    If you were to look at my desk, right now, here’s what you would see:
    Two nice chairs for volunteers to sit down on. My chair is ripped. Clutters of papers everywhere. I’m working on all of them and will get to them sometime today, I hope. A few inspirational sayings in frames. For the volunteers of course. Several open calendars. Each one is color coded for different areas and projects. Post it notes in purple. The purple ones were on sale. A really old phone. I’m used to it and it has several lines, picking capabilities and sometimes the speaker phone works. My desktop. Not bad, really. My business cards on a funky doggie card holder given to me by a volunteer. They are at the corner because I knock them over constantly.
    Under my desk is: My laptop (Trying to get a newer version). My camera (it actually is now stuck on playback, mainly because it has been dropped multiple times, so I pretty much use my I phone for pictures). A manual for volunteer orientation (I’m constantly scribbling in it as I want to “update” orientation so that it is fresh). A tote bag with pens, papers, brochures, business cards (for that last-minute invite). A pile of papers that don’t fit on the desk (seriously, desks are not big enough). An old, old Rolodex (do you even know what that is?-ok, it’s sentimental, left over from no data base days).
    Now, as you scan all this, you may notice on or about the desk and walls:
    a small worry doll from Nicaragua, a gift from a volunteer who thinks I worry too much
    a dusty dolphin screen saver, a gift from a volunteer who loves anything sea related
    a tiny carved coconut monkey, a gift from a patient who carved-he was one of my favorites
    a Gemini key chain, a gift from a volunteer whose wife shared my birthday
    a watercolor of a… well, I’m not sure what it is but it was a gift from a volunteer’s daughter who loves to paint
    a trio of small glass elephants from a volunteer who thinks I forget too many things
    a hand painted rock paper weight from a volunteer-flowers adorn one side, on the flip side is a finger flipping me off-our joke
    a mug that says, “I survived volunteering”-inside joke from a volunteer
    a beautiful inlaid box from India-gift from a volunteer from India who was incredibly inspirational
    a picture of a Cocker Spaniel-a volunteer’s beloved dog that died
    a “soul saver” pack-a joke gift from my stand-up comedian volunteer-it’s guaranteed to save my soul she says
    a Murano glass paperweight from Italy, a gift from a world traveling volunteer-I live vicariously through him a lot
    an engraved shell casing from a, well I’m not sure which rifle -a gift from a veterans group who is now volunteering
    a USB aromatherapy plug-in, guaranteed to make you calm-gift from an office volunteer-is she trying to say something?

    If you look into my top desk drawer you will find all the items from volunteers who have died or left, some office supplies, my favorite stapler (the kind that looks like pruning shears). Maybe I’m an office hoarder, I don’t know. And maybe that volunteer sent me that article because he was trying to tell me something. And maybe, yes, I’m a bit neurotic (hey, I’ve got lots on my mind), a tad kooky (Ok, so I sometimes just burst into maniacal laughter), and a great deal disorganized (hey, I can find that form for changing a volunteer’s address-just give me a minute).
    Well, maybe I’ll not get that promotion or be looked at as someone going places. Maybe my work space looks like I’m not trying. Or maybe, just maybe, it looks like the daily workload of a volunteer manager.
    -Meridian