Dear Meg,

I have been an activist for five years, worked as a full-time for two. This year, I somewhat started experiencing these depressive episodes where I get intense feelings of burnout and never doing enough.

There are so many things happening that I feel like I can’t take a break. I can’t even get a health checkup even though I’ve had multiple problems with my health for months now. And when I actually do take some rest, I feel this intense guilt, so it never feels like actual rest. I still end up thinking about the tasks that haven’t been accomplished, the targets that haven’t been met, and the feeling that if I stop thinking about it, I’m gonna mess it up.

I feel like I need to reset, but I feel guilty about asking for that. But I just can’t take it anymore and don’t know how to overcome this feeling.

I feel like I need to take a break from doing revolutionary work because I have so much to figure out about myself (I don’t even know if I developed new mental illnesses because I haven’t been able to get myself checked for months, but I feel so much dysfunctionality) and I don’t think I can figure things out if I’m always occupied by what we do. I do love the revolutionary work that we’re doing but I feel like I’m just messing things up because of how I am. I feel like I need to get my head right and to get my sh*t together if I really want to contribute more to our cause.

What do I do? How do I not feel this guilt? How do I explain to my comrades that I can’t function properly at this time and I don’t know when I will be okay?

M

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Dear M,

Thank you so much for writing to me about your struggles, and with such openness and vulnerability, too. I felt your anguish, guilt, weariness, and more, and was pained by how much they must weigh on your young soul.

It is a dreadful time, here and around the world. Explaining this would probably just remind of our everyday hurt, so let me just say that today’s context merely compounds the already difficult battle you’ve joined. Your distress is most unfortunate, but not unexpected.

Fighting for a better world is quite possibly the toughest, most exhausting, most frustrating endeavor in life. From one point of view, it’s heartbreak upon heartbreak. We discover the root of our suffering, and we don’t look at the world the same way again. We’d be up against most things we used to know, and often, too, the people and places we learned them from. Then we take on the long, painstaking work of building a movement, to bring down an oppressive system.

A lot of pain awaits in such a movement. The pain of seeing people suffer. The pain of waging unsuccessful campaigns. The pain of making mistakes even as you try your best. The pain of losing comrades – to illness, to death, or when the enemy is being extra cruel, to the unknown. The list is long.

But I hope you know, or have always known: they’re not yours to bear alone. After all, you are a kasama, a word that by itself means being with others, being part of something bigger. No comrade is ever on her own. But I understand that it could feel that way, on particularly hard days.

When those moments come, I wish you the courage to open up to others, even when it feels uncomfortable. I’ve written many times before: your feelings do not make you any less brave or strong or committed. They just make you more human. My mentor has more wisdom, for days that are more difficult than others: “some pain is worth owning, if they affirm your choices.” May you always find yourself believing that our struggle is a price we’re willing to pay. That this revolution is always worth the pain.

You asked other questions—very good ones, if I may add: what to do, how to not feel guilty, how to tell other people. To me they are the questions of someone who wants to do right by their values, and it shows that you already have, at your core, what you need to face these challenges. Something tells me that much of your distress comes from not knowing this about yourself. M, I would like for you to start with trust in your person, and allow it to guide you towards the best decisions.

Let it help you listen to your body more – because it never lies – when it shows signs of needing a break. Let it be your anchor as you explain to others your current state (with such honesty as you did here, so that they can provide informed counsel). Let it make you believe that even when you’re struggling, you have something to contribute. And most of all, let it remind you that no matter what happens, you will remain committed to our great Cause.

When you begin with this self-trust, you won’t worry so much about “messing things up.” You won’t have to wrestle with so much guilt about taking a break*. You’d realize that it’s perfectly alright to be part of something even as you’re still getting to know who you are.

This reminds me that in my quick reply I said that there’s always a place for you in the movement for when you’re healthy and well. Please allow me to modify that: there’s always a place for you here, whatever your state. An infinite number of tasks await, each one no less needed than the rest.

Finally, while I’d like you to have complete faith in yourself, I wanted to say that in a way, we’re never going to be enough for the movement. The project of building a new society is a complex one, and it’s meant to be founded on collective action. Each of us simply takes on what we can, give it our absolute best, and rest assured that all of our comrades are doing the same.

Because even as our hearts keep breaking a little in this grand project of ours, I know so many of us have found in it our life’s meaning. Amid the darkness and chaos of today’s world, our Cause is a boundless font of hope, love, and courage. And it’s how we know that one day, we will win.

Wishing a year that’s kinder to you, M, and to all our brothers and sisters in the struggle.

Best,

Meg

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