The system counts EVERYTHING… except the human cost.
This morning while waiting for the Keurig to release its cup of liquid comfort, I walked around the house, just my normal morning rounds to make sure all is well. What I found was a house that reflected exactly how I have been living lately, which is functional, but messy. There is half empty Amazon boxes, stuff everywhere, a waiting pile of mail, and dishes piled in the sink.
It’s not because I don’t care. It’s because my capacity has been consumed elsewhere.
As I opened the fridge to get the creamer and the cold foam for my coffee, my shoulder complained loudly. So much so that I had to use my other arm to open the fridge. It took some time, you might say I’m a slow learner, but my brain has caught up to what my body has been saying for the last few years. Every ounce of energy I have has been consumed toward staying “caught up.” I can’t say it was a dramatic epiphany, it was more observational. And my brain was finally counting up the cost.
Then it hit me, it’s not the actual work that is breaking me down. It’s not even that I’m incapable. I am 100 percent successful and good at what I do. But there is a constant state of being worn down by living in a system that funnily enough was designed by humans. Trying to live in a system that counts everything, except the human cost, has left me exhausted.
THE WORK MATTERS
My work matters, real people are attached to the decisions being made. In order to not jeopardize my job, and to maintain the privacy of cases I work, I must remain vague here. But I will say I work in a system that relentlessly measures production.
Meaningful work becomes something else entirely when it is compressed into metrics and numbers. Eventually, the pace and production begin to compete with the humanity required to do the work well. The pressure is no longer about just doing a good job and serving the community in my care. It becomes about sustaining unreasonable output while carrying the weight of making decisions that affect actual human lives.
That tension changes people over time.
METRICS CHANGE HUMAN BEHAVIOR
The system will tell you that quality matters. However, when what is actually measured is quantity, that argument fails to hold any weight. When you are measured by production output your nervous system changes. Every pause feels dangerous, taking a break feels like a risk. You begin to rush a quick lunch at your desk, if you bother to eat at all. You sit for longer and longer periods of time. You realize you haven’t moved from your computer all day, you haven’t drank water, and you still don’t make your production numbers.
The nervous system gives off polite little warnings at first. The aching hands, a sore shoulder, a headache, all in an attempt to say “Hey you, wake up, this isn’t sustainable.”
THE INTERNAL ARGUMENT
Here is where the internal argument with myself begins. I can solve this. I just need to optimize more. I need better systems. I can reorganize my Onenote. Get a bigger desk to hold larger monitors. Maybe I can read faster in 4K. Maybe I’m overreacting because other people manage this. My numbers are above the line, so technically I’m doing fine. But the argument ended this morning, with a sore shoulder, a messy house and a realization that I’m at capacity.
LOWER LEVEL
I don’t think humans were meant to live as continuous output machines. You shouldn’t be able to enter into people’s traumatic histories and then just move on to the next, and the next, and the next. The goal definitely should not be hitting some arbitrary metric and having nothing left at the end of the day. I think we were meant as humans to have enough capacity left at the end of the day to care for our homes, our bodies, our people, and ourselves.
Surviving is not the same as living well. I am choosing, for many reasons, to not leave the system (for now). So, what do I do now? I am lowering the level. Lowering the stakes. Reducing unnecessary pressure, choosing sustainability over working at peak capacity. Building a life where there is energy left for home, body, soul, mind, creativity, and relationships.
Finding a way to be human in systems that often ignores human limits. I believe humans need enough unclaimed energy left over to remain human. I refuse to give up caring to keep up with a metric. I refuse to stop doing careful, thoughtful work simply because speed and volume are rewarded.
Lowering the level is not lowering the care, not lowering my standards, and not withdrawing from life. It’s about creating a margin to live in. There should be more to life than performance and recovery from performance.
