Coping by Compartmentalizing vs. the Messy Mind

As communicators, many of us are, by nature, compartmentalizers. We tailor our messaging to distinct stakeholders and media channels. We are internal or external, proactive or reactive. We structure messages in palatable chunks.

If you’re like me, compartmentalizing is not just part of your professional toolbox, but a way of life. Work, family and social life in separate buckets, chasing the ever elusive work-life balance. My personal health is a big, significant bucket as well. I live with the chronic genetic disease cystic fibrosis and it requires an extraordinary amount of my mental (and physical) energy. Compartmentalizing is a coping mechanism that has served me well. Until now.

I suspect that most of you reading this are now all too familiar with your compartments breaking down and the accompanying mental messiness. We’re working from home (or is it living at work? I saw someone tweet), our kids and significant others are our coworkers and our coworkers are in our homes virtually. For me, my compartments began crumbling when the coronavirus “what ifs” were just beginning.

Quick résumé for context. I am a communicator for a large pre-K through 12th grade public school district. I started my communications career in public health and also spent some time in public higher education. Through my experiences, crisis communications became my niche.

From the outset of the outbreak on the other side of the world, my internal alarm bells were sounding. My gut was telling me that this was the pandemic that my public health training had prepared me for; the proverbial “when” of the “not if, but when” scenario. I also knew that schools would be greatly affected, communication would be vital, and that my personal health status put me at greater risk than the majority.

A meeting with municipal partners in those early days culminated in a proactive joint media statement. My physician saw my name on that statement and sent me a message saying she was worried for me. My growing personal fear which I had tried to suppress, even dismiss as irrational, was validated in that moment. I couldn’t recall the last time I cried at work, but now I couldn’t hide that I was constantly tearful. I confided in several coworkers and showed a vulnerability that was out of character and out of my comfort zone. I’d always prided myself on keeping it together, managing a chronic disease like a second job, rarely allowing it to distract or detract from the first.

I’m also a wife and a mom to two beautiful girls, ages 2 and 5, who were in daycare full-time. Every minute I spent at work, I heard an internal ticking time bomb. It seemed like moments mattered in getting my family home safely each day. Working late meant frantic calls to my husband and hurried pleas that they would wash hands and take baths as soon as they got home.

Circumstances continued to rapidly evolve. There were more late nights, long meetings, hours making and awaiting decisions, with an eventual state issued stay-at-home order and school closures. There was a constant churn of information as we tried to hit moving targets. There were also difficult conversations with family members about my health and theirs. There was no respite from the escalating threats on all fronts.

Fast forward to now, several months into working remotely with children at home, my messy mind prevails (as does my messy house). It’s a privilege that many do not have, though it is never a linear or tidy place to be. But it’s fighting the current to expect no interference between domestic, medical and work tasks. So I surrender to the messiness and do my best. Those of us who find ourselves in this vulnerable category are also resilient. We’ve been through the hard stuff and we find a way forward.

We can let go of the self-imposed rigidity and still hold on to our multitude of truths. I can fiercely defend my role as a mother even when my kids are watching Frozen II for the 87th time. I can uphold my professional credibility and serve up a mean plate of chicken nuggets for lunch. I will forever be a chronic disease fighter, but I lead my work with empathy.

I am vulnerable but I am capable. I am confident, but there are moments when I fall apart. I pick myself up, give myself grace, and reach out with honesty.


About the Author 

Bree Hankins is Coordinator of Public Relations and Marketing for Springfield Public Schools District 186 in Springfield, Illinois. She is proud to promote pre-K through 12th grade public education in her hometown and alma mater district.

Bree has been a public relations professional in the public sector for 14 years. She holds a BA in public relations and MBA from Illinois State University. She has served on two AWC chapter boards over the span of her career.

Bree is a wife and mom to two up-and-coming independent little women.

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