mental health – Rebecca Tolley

creating a culture of wellness in libraries around food & eating

Who hasn’t struggled with disordered eating? American culture foments it with our advertisements about food and sex and food and fitness and food and thinness/obesity.

How does disordered eating feed into wellness this month? And how do our library workplaces create cultures of wellness for those with food trauma?

Food trauma occurs with specific types of food and usually stem from an event someone experienced that causes them to feel anxious, insecure, and possibly surveilled when eating.

Someone with a high ACEs score may be more likely to experience anorexia nervosa, bulimia nervosa, to being eating disorder. Caitlin Beale describes several types of food trauma:

restriction or deprivation
food insecurity
forced eating
sensory trauma
misunderstanding of neurodivergent behavior

It’s very easy for those with disordered eating to be misunderstood. When we avoid parties, potlucks, or receptions, or situations wherein food is present, our absence may be noted. Absences around team eating and socialization can be perceived poorly by supervisors. They may request that you be more “present” and appear at team-building events. And unless we disclose about our disordered eating and why workplace events with food may unsettle us, our absences could be counted against us or viewed as our not participating in team events. Or that “so and so” is a curmudgeon and doesn’t like to socialize with everyone else. When, in fact, the food may be the issue, not the emotional labor socialization entails.

Certainly many people are aware of how loaded that baked potato may be. Our greater awareness about dietary differences and how we accommodate gluten-free, vegan, vegetarian, pescatarian, etc. preferences is essential in promoting inclusion and belonging in our library workspaces.

Creating an affinity group in which library workers with disordered eating can support one another, and share and crowdsource strategies and tactics for dealing with this issue in the workplace is one idea. Convening a monthly trauma-informed/responsive book/information group with library workers may be another idea for stimulating conversations about food-related experiences.

This is one area in which trauma informed/responsive leadership can raise awareness of food trauma in the workplace, discuss this sensitive issue, take an environmental scan of food issues affecting their specific demographics, and model thoughtfulness in this domain.

Somewhat unrelated food for thought: public library workers are involved with summer feeding programs in their communities, which seems like another example of job creep, of library workers being all things to all members of their communities. More and more, library workers are expected to fill all the gaps that our social infrastructure is failing.

library work and wellness

As someone who promotes boundary-setting as an essential element of self care, I am pleased to see that August is National Wellness Month, and I’ll be posting about wellness during its span.

What healthy habits drive your library work?

Opting out of gossip?

Avoiding dramatic situations?

Taking all your federally-mandated breaks–including two 15-minute breaks and an hour lunch break?

As a trauma-informed and/or trauma-responsive library worker, modeling wellness in the workplace may be within your wheelhouse.

Wellness includes work/life balance. That slash [/] between the two words is a powerful symbol of separation. Of boundaries. Affirming and embodying that separation can be tough. My tendency to ruminate over past and present and future work happenings in the evenings and weekends at home robs me of my precious free-time and also makes focusing on my family challenging.

A few weeks ago I responded to an email late on a Friday night, after our traditional workday ended. I included a statement about the uncommon late email, and for others to respect their work boundaries and not feel pressured to read or respond to any email outside of their paid work time.

cognitive dissonance

When I speak about trauma-informed/trauma-responsive library services I mention cognitive dissonance when it comes to library security and/or law enforcement presence in libraries. I’m white. Seeing armed cops patrol my public library unsettles me. I’m on the fence about having security guards babysitting empty academic libraries, too.

However, many library workers experience threats, harassment, bullying, and other kinds of violent behavior from those whom they serve. Library workers often want security/law enforcement in the building because that’s not our job.

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Interestingly, it WAS. Historically librarians were hired to curate and discipline those who didn’t follow rules. They were hired to enforce white supremacy in the white institutionalized library.

Yet, a lot of library workers’ workflow is interrupted by having to de-escalate situations, curb unacceptable behavior, and surveil the people using their spaces and collections to monitor how well everyone abides by rules.

Many people we support are black and brown people whose bodies and lives are surveilled. They worry about whether they’ll survive a “routine traffic stop.”

Holding two conflicting ideas takes a mental toll on our well-being. Library workers need to feel safe. Library users need to feel safe. Those are similar ideas, but safety means different things to different people.

For some weeks now I’ve thought about the cognitive dissonance felt by prison librarians. Our professional ethics stress the right to information, the freedom of speech, and anti-censorship. Yet, prison librarians must balance those professional ethics with what their employer–a department of corrections, prison, juvenile detention center, etc.–deems a security risk. Information is restricted for prisoners, but SCOTUS guarantees their right to access of the courts, which is usually interpreted as access to a law library.

Seemingly, there isn’t much we can do to resolve cognitive dissonance. Recognizing the conflict and accepting that it’s there is it. That’s part of Acceptance and Commitment Therapy. Just noticing the conflicting ideas when they pop up, and not judging them. It’s difficult. I want to solve problems, but some days I just notice and let those ideas float on. That’s some improvement over the dismay of learned helplessness, right?

describing a [library] workplace as “family”

Recently I referred to someone’s “meeting the library family” with CRINGE. I wasn’t ready to share my thoughts about that term being used in a workplace/organization/institution, but some weeks ago I watched the docu-series Working: What We Do All Day on Netflix. Barak Obama follows up on Studs Terkel’s 1974 book of interviews with working people, today’s working people.

At some point in Episode 2: The Middle, Obama says something along the lines of “this is a family and folks look out for you…” And this is a total paraphrase from Luke: “When somebody says you’re in a family, usually that’s a bad job.“

Yup.

I forget when someone in my workplace described us as “library family,” but it was early in my career. We “take care” of each other. Love each other. Words, but no caretaking from the powerful. Everyone working in the library was expected to take care of one person. You couldn’t say no. We were told via email to sign up for transportation shifts to take this person to physical therapy, the grocery store, feed their cats, run errands on their behalf, and it would be counted as part of our work time. We were told to visit this person in the hospital and see what items to fetch from their home for their use in the hospital. This person called their staff when they had a leak or an emergency at home. Their direct reports came to their home and helped them.

Maybe some people, somewhere have warm fuzzy feelings about their “work fam,” but I never have because my experience of that was manipulative and compulsory. And for a decade or so, I was the only person of my generation working amongst the librarians. They were cliquish and excluded me, even when I asked to join their writing group.

My first response to nearly every question is “Review The Literature,” but I haven’t in this case. I like to back up what I write with data.

If you’re on the job market and hear the library, the workplace, the organization, the institution referred to as a FAMILY, this is a red flag. The way I read it is: You/I am the child in this dynamic. You/I will be parentified. This is when parents expect children to be the caregiver. In the workplace, this means that all the sacrifices are made by you, because we’re a family. We’re tight. We’re in this together.

Surely some people, like those in marketing and PR, use this type of branding to signify some kind of down-homey close-knit feel, they’re selling a potential experience of familial warmth and belonging to lure in the unwitting and I believe that is disingenuous.

I think of Leo Tolstoy when I think of families. He wrote, in Anna Karenina, “Happy families are all alike. Every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way,” which I paraphrase as “every family is dysfunctional, some more than others.”

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My families–birth and blended–failed me in a lot of ways that I’ve spent my adulthood recovering from. Invoking the “we’re a happy family” card, if you will, to describe a workplace clangs alarm bells in my brain. I love my birth and blended fam but I don’t have to like them. And I don’t have to love OR like my work fam. That seems like an idyllic dream. I can/do dream.

What’s unusual for me right now is the amount of television/streaming that I’m consuming. Loving The Bear for so many reasons, but it’s a great example of toxic kitchen workplaces. All the yelling, the screaming, the violence, whoa.

Some of the phrases that came up in seasons one were “You can’t start with fucked” meaning that when you inherit a fucked up organization, you’re bound to fail.

Another was “The chef was a piece of shit” regarding why Carmine experiences tremendous anxiety, nightmares, and what looks like PTSD from workplace abuse.

And the last thing, that I identify with most strongly is “A big part of the job is taking care of people.” And that makes me think that if you aren’t a people-person and lack empathy, then I’m not sure what workplace is a good fit.

Also picked up on a lot of “workplace culture” by watching FUBAR, the new Arnold Schwarzenegger Netflix series about a father and daughter who learn that they’re both in the CIA after he’s sent in to rescue her before retiring. Obviously, I don’t know how the CIA works. But some of the situations and humor visible in this show…. far-fetched, I’m sure.

Two of the CIA operatives are always “sack tapping” each other (not the father/daughter), which is such a vile bodily violation, omg. Still unpacking this show, but the people working together are bio and work fam, which promises (and delivers) fascinating dynamics and situations.

48 hours of interview anxiety

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Who hasn’t experienced a train wreck of an employment interview? Fleeting memories of past interviews cycle through my head, and I don’t want to re-visit them. Am glad they’re in the past.

Ian Ross Hughes covers that in his chapter “Mental illness and the in-person interview” within LIS Interrupted. Disclosure: I know Ian professionally. We were matched as part of an ALA mentoring program between new librarians and established librarians years ago and we follow each other on social media.

Almost immediately I was shocked that someone at the interviewing library remarked on his trench coat and made awful insinuations about him coming in to shoot up the place. That’s a terrible way to begin a day. Ian describes the day, or days, as “meeting the library family,” at which I cringed (another post, another time).

There are always problems when creating an agenda for a person’s interview. As a search committee chair and search committee member, I’ve advocated on the candidates’ behalf for more time to rest. And believe it or not, I’ve experienced lively debates on whether to end the interview with a dinner, even though we began with a dinner the previous day. In retrospect, asking the candidate about their preferences seems the best course of action. Ian writes “If the day is not well planned, or clear objectives are not set, the day can be further complicated.” He also reminded me about eating and meals and how this activity can be a point of stress for people with disordered eating or whose dietary restrictions may be challenging for libraries with very little experience handling that type of diversity.

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The public speaking aspect of library interviews gets to us all. Most entry-level positions in academic libraries require a presentation to those working in the library, and sometimes others from campus are invited to attend as well. Ian reminds us that body language and speech patterns we exhibit while speaking may not be due to nervousness, but manifest as part of a person’s mental illness and people should not be judged a poor fit for the job or organization based on those visible things.

In closing, he makes a case for “eliminating superficial barriers and hiring the best candidate” as the goal.

leading with vulnerability

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After nearly every talk/workshop/presentation I give I’m thanked by the organizer/facilitator for my vulnerability. Sometimes I feel as though I’m oversharing. But mostly, I’m just honest about the everyday mental health struggles I experience in my library workplace and how I establish boundaries with others to protect myself and my energy. Last blog, I shared about my library-induced panic attacks.

Here, a back channel exists in which check in with each other to learn about the “mood of the day.” Sharing this information with each other helps us pre-game meetings by taking anti-anxiety meds. Incidentally, centrally organized library back channels exist for BIPOC who want information about safe places where one can thrive: Greenbook for libraries.

Today I read Karina Hagelin’s “Surviving to thrive: creating a culture of radical vulnerability in libraries” which exists within LIS Interrupted. I’ve co-presented with them and admired their work a great deal and was pleasantly surprised when I saw their essay in the collection. Karina inspires my professional vulnerability.

Yet, I’m also exhausted by remaining silent, pretending, and performing collegiality in the workplace. Those actions, or lack of actions, daily impinge upon my sense of integrity. Martha Beck and Gabor Mate both write about how both our integrity is tied to our mental/physiological health. They’re negatively affected when we revert to our socially constructed “good girl” “good boy” “good child” personas instead of speaking the truth.

Karina defines radical vulnerability as “a praxis and a strategy of sharing openly about experienced, identities, and satires that have been stigmatized and weaponized against us, in order to keep us quiet, small, and powerless.”

How often do you surface act? It’s part of the emotional labor that many of us are expected to perform daily in our workplaces, both with the people we help as well as our colleagues and administrators. Karina describes this as “forcing a smile during a challenging experience” when actually you don’t want to smile. You want to scream or cry or leave the space immediately. They also write that answering something as simple as “How are you?” is stressful.

We follow social scripts in our lives. We’re programmed to ask others “How are you?” and the expected response is “Fine, how are you?” Admittedly, it’s a struggle for me to answer this honestly. I’m usually not fine at all. Yet I don’t want to share how I’m really feeling for a variety of reasons. First, it’s a matter of privacy; it’s not everyone’s business. Second, I don’t feel safe sharing how I truly feel, especially with an abuser. Keeping my boundaries engaged takes so much energy and forethought. I spend some time fabricating a benign yet truthful answer when an abuser asks “How is your Monday?” My answer: “Well… it’s a Monday…” which answers vaguely, and truthfully, so I’m not lying or pretending, or performing collegiality.

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Karina recommends we act in a manner that contributes to a culture of empathy and vulnerability. This includes showing up for others, holding space for others, and letting co-workers know they’re not alone, that we are someone whom they can trust.