Lead without losing yourself: My experience with vocational awe in the nonprofit sector
A few years into my career in the nonprofit sector, I was 27 years old, and I had two stomach ulcers and a case of shingles.
At the time, I didn't know that my body could tell me things, and I believed that I had discovered my purpose. I had a job that I thought I could do until I died, and it was slowly killing me, turning it into a self-fulfilling prophecy.
This job asked me to do a lot of things that I've since come to notice as unfortunate patterns in the nonprofit sector:
I asked friends and family to support the organization, and I donated money that I was paid by the organization back into it
I paid for things that the organization should have paid for and made valuable contributions of personal assets without reimbursement
I worked more hours than I should have according to the salary I was being paid
I lacked boundaries between my professional and personal life and allowed myself to be mistreated by my supervisor
I was willing to do anything "for the mission" and put it above everything, including my health and personal relationships
I derived my feelings of self-worth from my job, and I liked spending time only with people who knew me at work
If any of these things resonate with you, there's no judgment here, but I know from hindsight that this is a recipe for burnout AND a huge disservice to the organization (not to mention yourself).
You see, this organization relied so heavily on my self-sacrifice that it couldn't sustain itself unless its employees were willing to work like this, which meant not having family obligations (my boss even told me that I "couldn't become a parent and keep this job").
I was a middle manager in this first "real" nonprofit job, and when I resigned, the organization had to close its doors because it couldn't exist without me. That felt terrible. It felt like I had given everything I had and failed anyway.
But I know now that what I was experiencing was vocational awe. I believed that my work mattered so much that I had to endure constant distress and hypervigilance due to an emotionally volatile boss and ignore all of my body's cries for nourishment and rest to get the job done at all costs. I believed that I had to defer my dreams of marriage and family for the mission. I believed that this was the only way to serve the mission well.
I thought I was doing the right thing because I hadn't yet learned that my labor was the source of the organization's capacity. And I didn't understand capacity-building then the way that I understand in now. In fact, I think a lot of my colleagues in the sector still think about capacity-building in organizational or systemic terms. I think about it in human terms.
I didn't know then that my most effective labor is possible only when I am well. I do well when I am well, so my work depends on me taking care of myself. The same is true for you. The same is true for any human being doing purpose-driven work.
Our work relies on not only on our labor, but on our hearts and minds and wellbeing. Oftentimes, the best way to increase the capacity of an organization is to take care of its people - to make sure they feel safe, free, and supported, to invest in them, and to trust them. Importantly for me, I also needed to know the value of my labor to my organization, my community, and perhaps most importantly, to myself.
If you're grappling with vocational awe and trying to figure out how to take care of yourself so you can remain in the nonprofit sector, I want to connect with you. Please join me and Molly Krichten for a pay-what-moves-you workshop about vocational awe on Thursday, November 13 at 1:00 pm ET. Let’s brainstorm ways to set boundaries, reclaim joy in our work, and build sustainable habits that keep us energized for the long haul.
