flashquake

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Volunteer Burnout by Debi Orton

A decade ago I signed up to do volunteer work for an organization with a mission I truly believed in. For several years, I spent one or two nights each week answering the telephone, tweaking outdated computer code, retyping training manuals and carrying a pager in my role as home leader, a resource for other volunteers. Every time I would feel my energy flagging, I would remind myself about the importance of the work we were doing, about the clients who depended upon the organization. If I just worked a little harder, maybe things would get better.

I can still recall one of the early training sessions, led by one of the organization's founders. She was a paunchy middle-aged woman who chain-smoked and always — always — looked as if she hadn't slept in a month.

"You may think I'm crazy," she said, exhaling a cloud of smoke, "but I am willing to guarantee that three years from now, none of you will still be here. Even the most dedicated of you. Because this place will eat you alive."

Two and a half years later, I realized she was right. I had no social life beyond interaction with the other volunteers. I had nothing to say to anyone outside the organization, because our work was confidential and couldn't be discussed. Worst of all, I was perpetually tired and frustrated.

One morning at 4:30 a.m., answering a pager that had already gone off three times since midnight, I realized that I had to quit the organization or I was going to need its services myself.

It took me a long time to get my life back. At first, I felt guilty for going out with friends from work, knowing how much was still left to do at the organization I'd quit. If I went to the movies, I'd catch myself wondering if this caller or that one had made contact with a volunteer to check in.

Eventually, I got over my experience as a volunteer. I started living my life again.

In some ways, work at flashquake reminds me of that time in my life. For all intents and purposes, it's volunteer work as well. This journal makes no money, and our staff is not paid for their work. Our editors devote hours each week to reading submissions, writing reviews and other associated work.

Beyond the thrill of creating a cohesive publication from disparate elements and unleashing that publication on the Internet, there's little recompense. Occasionally, someone will write to compliment us on our work, or on the work of someone we've had the pleasure to present to the world.

Like any other volunteer organization, burnout is always a danger. And burnout has claimed another flashquake editor. Jonette Stabbert, one of the editors who helped to birth and nurture flashquake through its infancy, has put up the white flag.

Jonette was more than an editor. She was our "European correspondent," and we appreciated her Continental outlook and perspective, especially during this time of tumult. Jonette also helped us attract some fine writers from other parts of the world.

It is with deep gratitude that I take this opportunity to thank Jonette for her hard work and unflagging enthusiasm for flashquake. She will be missed. You can find out more about what Jonette is up to these days at http://www.stabbert.com.

At flashquake, we are continuing on. For our next two issues, we have invited Didi Wood and Maggie Mountford to serve as guest editors. Didi will guest for our Fall issue, and Maggie will guest for our Winter issue. Both are wonderful writers in their own right, so we're looking forward to having the benefit of their insights on upcoming submissions.

And we promise that we'll try not to burn them out!

Copyright 2003 by Debi Orton

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