Dealbreakers
About 10 years ago, my husband Dave and I went through what I’ll call a “rough patch” that lasted 18 months. He was suffering from crippling anxiety and depression, the kind that makes it impossible to function as an adult human being. We had a good support system and worked hard to get through it, checking ourselves into therapy and eventually recovering. But, it was hard, and awful. He had many terrible physical symptoms to accompany the stressful mental ones. He was convinced his stomach was permanently damaged, since he felt all of his stress right there. It was hard for him to eat, sleep, or get out of the house at all.
This is us, on the Amalfi Coast in December 2011, about 2 weeks before Dave had a nervous breakdown. There were hints something terrible was on the way, that we both saw and consciously ignored on this trip to Italy. We did have good food and lovely scenery, though.
Anyway, about a year into what we now refer to as “the bad time,” my therapist asked what my dealbreaker was. Like usual when she asked a perfectly valid question requiring me to do anything emotional, I gave her a blank stare. She went on, saying that I needed to figure out what would ultimately get me to leave the relationship, if it got worse. Her point was that even though I loved Dave and was trying my hardest to keep it together, I needed to accept that the situation was taking a huge toll on me and my well-being. Not only were my friends getting worried about me, she was getting worried about me. I needed to accept that Dave might not be able to move past his own issues, and I might have to leave the marriage to save myself. And I needed to figure out, with a clear head, what would ultimately make me cross that line, so that I was ready if and when the time came.
I hated to think about it, but I knew she was right. I figured out my dealbreaker, and when - sure enough - we got to that point, I told Dave he’d reached my dealbreaker and I was out. Done. Marriage over.
He knew I was serious when we had that conversation. He asked for one more chance, which I gave him. That gave us some space to work everything out, rather quickly at that point because I could be specific about what needed to change. The concept of the dealbreaker inadvertently saved our marriage, which had grown quite toxic. I’ll tell you what that dealbreaker was in another post. It’s actually a pretty funny story that we laugh about now.
Almost magically, as soon as we had our major turnaround moment, and Dave took control of his mental health, all his physical symptoms disappeared.
I share this story today because the concept of the dealbreaker has implications for toxic work relationships as much as it does toxic interpersonal relationships, and the way you physically feel can tell you a lot about what’s happening in your life. Let me give you an example.
I often joked there must’ve been something in the water at my last job. People who stayed there for a long while all ended up physically ill - some, to the point of a debilitating or even terminal illness. The ethnographer in me can’t help but observe everyone around me, all the time, so it’s really not surprising that I started to notice this element of my workplace. I’d never noticed it in any other workplace before.
As much as I loved being a professor and all that came with it, I secretly vowed to myself that if I ever started getting sick I would quit my job. I can handle a lot of abuse, stress, and bad situations, but physical illness would be my workplace dealbreaker. I hated to think about it, because I’d been working my entire life towards a tenured faculty job - which I had! How lucky I was! And I was up for promotion to full professor in August, which is the highest title a regular faculty member can achieve. I was, at one point, excited about that. I adored my students and seeing them go on to successful careers, and loved being around super intelligent and hard-working colleagues. If we’re being totally honest, I really loved telling people I was a professor. My ego grew a tiny bit more every time I said it out loud, so over the course of 17 years my ego had become quite a monster. But I knew there could be a situation where I would have to leave, eventually, even if it meant giving up everything I’d ever worked for - and shattering that fragile little ego.
I thought I was immune to whatever forces seemed to make people ill at my previous workplace. I thought I could meditate or work out or have enough hobbies or outside friends to escape the crushing stress and anxiety that seemed to plague pretty much everyone I worked with. And, for a while, I did. My coping mechanisms worked great, until they didn’t. As it turns out, running a half marathon does not mean you’ve run away from your actual problems. There aren’t enough girls’ trips in a year to make up for the energy drain of a bad work environment. Meditating clears my mind, but it also gave me space to focus on just how bad things in my work life actually were.
The last 10 months of my career, I was in the biggest leadership position I’d held to date. I was in charge of a giant academic unit that should’ve been an entire college, but wasn’t. I supervised close to 60 faculty and staff, and made decisions that impacted 1,600 students across 5 different programs. At first, my ego and I loved it. I felt important and helpful, two very dangerous feelings for me. Things ran fine, but I was finally, for the last time at this workplace, burning myself out. The work was overwhelming, relentless, and thankless. I was constantly told I wasn’t doing enough, and I needed to do more, despite knowing deep down I was doing plenty, quite well actually. I coped by acting one way at work - holding it together and pretending everything was great and I was happy - only to check out of my life at home and everywhere else. It’s not an ideal strategy for life. Little by little, the lines between work and life blurred to the point that I couldn’t do anything in my life outside of work that required very much of me in the way of social interaction. As someone who finds immense joy in things like having friends over for cookouts, that made my life very difficult. I backed out of and dreaded social events, and even found it hard to talk to my closest friends about anything at all, let alone what was really happening in my life. It all took too much energy. All I wanted to do was go to bed early every night and forget whatever happened that day.
And then, I got sick.
I got really sick for the first time in February, right after I finished 46 annual reviews. Because academia is so weird, some of those reviews were for people who were higher ranked than I was, and had been there much longer, and who honestly were much better scholars/researchers/whatever than me. Imagine a store manager who’s been in place for a year having to review a regional manager who’s been there for 10, who could ultimately block the promotion of that store manager if they felt like it. That was me, doing annual reviews.
I also had very little training on what to actually do for reviews. There was a workshop I attended but it was mostly about how to write commentary for someone who was in danger of not getting tenure, as opposed to what it should have been, which is maybe “Buy Large Bottles of Bourbon and Prepare to Cry Under the Covers at Night: Maintaining Your Sanity As a Department Chair during Reviews.”
I should point out that reviews weren’t difficult because I had to write bad ones. Literally everyone I worked with was doing something awesome, and I enjoyed getting to share their successes. But, they were all, in their own ways, experiencing the same thing I was, which is working so, so hard for so little reward, in a culture that perpetuates fear, insecurity, and “you’re not good enough” attitudes. No matter how amazing someone was, I couldn’t give raises, or promotions, or anything other than a “I really appreciate you and what you do” and a half-hearted attempt to make them feel better about a toxic work environment.
Pretty much the day my reviews were done, I got sick. Not Covid, luckily, but a nasty sinus infection that lasted 2 weeks.
The month of March brought its own set of special work-related challenges that still seem unreal and that I’m still processing. About 3 weeks after I recovered from my February illness, the same cold came back. It was the first time in my adult life I’d had back-to-back illnesses like that. Still not Covid. Just sick.
And it came back again a couple of weeks later, just couple of days before a family trip to Legoland that I did not want to see ruined. Again, not Covid. It was the stress sickness coming back to haunt me. As soon as we got to Winter Haven, FL, and the Legoland Beach Retreat (to be clear, the “beach” is really a swamp near a lake with some sand by the pool, but who cares) I was able to drop into the moment, enjoy my family, temporarily forget about work, and feel immediately better. Also, happy life-sized Lego minifigs and ice cream everywhere didn’t hurt my mood.
I submitted my resignation in April, the day we got back, with about 60 days notice, to conclude the semester. I was still committed to wrapping up a number of loose ends that needed tying. I didn’t want to leave my staff or faculty hanging. It was incredibly stressful. I got sick again twice before I left.
Almost magically, I stopped getting sick as soon as I left my office for the last time.
I started staying up past 8:45 pm, and sleeping better. I started initiating social events again. I have had lunch and coffee and beers with people!
I’ve had space and time to write something besides an email, which would more often than not cause people stress. Now I have a blog and I’m building the business I’ve always wanted, and I can talk to my friends again. It’s been lovely.
I know sometimes a cold is just a cold. But sometimes, it’s not.
Stress will make you sick.
I wouldn’t believe that if I hadn’t experienced it myself, both in my last workplace and with Dave during the “bad times.”
Is your workplace making you sick? Are you scared to admit it? I was. Because admitting it meant I’d reached my dealbreaker. I had no choice but to quit. And that meant a drastic change.
My only regret is that I didn’t do it sooner.
One of the services I offer is personal/professional development coaching. If you are interested in working with me to help you identify your dealbreakers, let me know! Or, if you’re a manager who’s worried your staff is at the dealbreaker point, we can develop a plan to help. Contact me below!
