Anxious is a state with which Iâm well-acquainted. Like a sweater thatâs faded and worn-in, I habitually cloak myself in nerves. I donât have an anxiety condition that I know of, but a quick perusal of the nervous natures which populate my family tree would seem to indicate that worry is an unavoidable inheritance.
As I head into the final few issues of my term as EIC, Iâm taking stock of what Iâve learned over the last year guiding our beaut of a paper. The first thing that comes to mind when I consider how the past eight months have affected me is learning to deal with stress.
This job has been simultaneously one of the most rewarding and exhausting experiences of my life. Iâve had to let go of two staff members, received immediate resignations from three, handed out several disciplinary warnings, and dealt with myriad problems ranging from our InDesign program crashing midway through a production night, to cutting a section. Iâve learned that Iâm passionate and get riled up in defence of the paper, and that having other peopleâs help is way better than attempting to function solo.
It always seems like the end of the world. The Nervous Nellie that I am, Iâll spend sleepless nights worrying about what will happen to the paper, thinking in circles about how I can fix a problem. Itâs like if I think long and hard about the issue, I can make it disappear. Not surprisingly, grinding my teeth and indulging in my nerves doesnât accomplish much other than making my dentist a very rich fellow.
Every EIC whoâs come before me has their own horror stories, their battle scars that theyâll grimly show over a bottle of wine or a shot of whiskey. Being in charge isnât facile, and anyone who assumes the person fielding all the problems has it easy is kidding themselves.
But as many problems as arise, things have always worked out. No problem, no matter how seemingly massive and unconquerable, has destroyed our newspaper in the 41 (goinâ on 42!) volumes that itâs been around. It doesnât mean that weâre invincible, but that problems can just about always be dealt with and mitigated. For someone like myselfâwhose stress is written into my receding gum line, my cracked and ripped cuticles, and my tea dependencyâthatâs been a difficult but important lesson.
Donât get me wrong: my brow still furrows, and I still get a pit of dread in my stomach when I get wind of another problem. Worry is ingrained into my very beingâmy mom teased me about being a âworry wartâ back when I was in elementary schoolâand that mental pattern ainât changing anytime soon. But Iâve come to recognize that these problems are all manageable, and that my worry wonât accomplish anything. I still do it, but itâs become easier for me to pause, breathe, and figure out how to shovel the bullshit.
Weâve all got problems, complete catastrophes that come up at the most inopportune of times. Itâs alright, and probably unavoidable, to indulge in some worry, and I know that not all problems will be dealt with seamlessly; Iâm incredibly fortunate to have a crackerjack team of bulldog staff on my side. You canât always change the problems, but you can change your outlook and attempt to approach those behemoth obstacles with a modicum of calm. So crank some Streisand and shout that nobodyâs gonna rain on your parade, because honey, youâve got this.
Hello gorgeous,
Natalie Serafini
