how offering pro bono can help us reduce our risk of burnout

With 51% of small businesses owners experiencing burnout since the pandemic started, what should we be doing that we currently aren't to help us better look after ourselves?

In conversations like these around self-managing our personal well-being, there’s often a tacit assumption that balancing looking after ourselves means we have to somehow separate ourselves from the ‘good work’ that we strive to do (or at least, strive to get paid for!), and, in the words of Monty Python, do something completely different.

But what if doing more of what we currently do in the ‘day job’ might actually help us better look after ourselves?

I’ve been reflecting recently with other people about how I approach and ‘balance’ my pro bono work as a sole trader with the need to make sure I keep earning enough cash to keep the rent paid.

Because if we don’t get this trade off between ‘work and love’ working properly, we either find ourselves homeless (evicted after non-rent payments because we didn’t do enough  paid work in favour of our pro bono offers), overwhelmed by guilt at not doing more when we feel we should/could (not feeling able to turn people away who we know we could have helped, but couldn’t otherwise pay us), or trying to satisfy all these demands on ourselves and then seeing the ‘lights go out’.

And the way I try and get it right is through the following approaches:

• Offering pro bono through structured volunteering programmes: that way there’s someone half keeping an eye on how much I’m doing, and trying to make sure I don’t get overloaded with requests. It also means that there’s also someone I can semi-regularly check-in with to make sure I’m also feeling ok with it all.

• Tracking the time I spend on pro bono and monetising this: I can then compare this figure to my overall paid earnings. It’s a tidy check-sum as I’ve a target percentage in my mind as to how much I should be ‘gifting’ through my pro bono work.

• Reflecting with others on how they’re thinking about it and their approaches (all my fellow Club members whom I’ve already been having conversations with about this - it wasn’t all one-way!)

• And ultimately, trying to accept the truth that however superhuman we might otherwise see or wish ourselves to be, we can’t save everyone.

But I’ve also been exploring my motivations, and the benefits I get from such apparent altruistic service to others.

Whilst there’s a host of other benefits that I could wax lyrical about, something I learnt very early on while offering pro bono is that removing the payment part of the relationship with a group (or person) radically changes how I perceive the dynamic - rather than constantly reminding myself that I need to keep this project moving along in order to be able to get paid (the starting point of the client relationship), I’m instead finding that I’m coming to the project as an equal to the people involved, and much more open to learning with them as we progress. It’s easier to work at a more relaxed, natural pace, and there’s more enjoyment to be had in the time I’m spending with these people and their communities, because I’m not worried about having to ‘watch a clock’ for billing hours.

We don’t often think that the pro bono we offer is a way through which we can take better care of ourselves. I’ve found it a good tonic for refreshing my passion for what I do, having been able to immerse and indulge myself in doing it purely for the love of it, rather than as a means to an end (in this case, making sure the rent gets paid next month).

darkness and light

Most people who know me (professionally) tend to associate me with stories about wacky props in zoom calls; encouraging people to play with Lego in workshops; and awarding prizes for whoever on a conference panel I'm chairing, delivers their presentation in the shortest time (or risk being chased off stage by me with my water pistols...). 

What some may not know about me is that part of the reason I try and bring such frivolity and apparent disregard for the accepted ways in which things are usually done by injecting more fun into proceedings, is that I also work in some very dark places: for example - researching trends and influences on the reasons why and how people choose to end their life by suicide to inform national policy; supporting refuges and services rescuing survivors of domestic abuse on how they can scale the number of women and children they're able to work with; coaching founders of start-ups who've just received a terminal diagnosis on how they think about their legacy; and consulting with Boards as to how their organisation should respond to their chief executive (or similar) unexpectedly dying in their sleep or in an accident.

Despite what may appear to be my default/usual positive and encouraging attitude that the world and (most) clients see, I'm always aware that however hard we might wish otherwise, there will always be suffering around us (albeit usually hidden just beneath the surface).

It's there for all of us to see if we choose to recognise it - or we can choose to ignore it; we can hope someone else deals with it; and we can hope beyond hope that we might never have to face those issues in or own lives.

Personally, I choose to recognise it - and in doing so, to try and break the taboos that surround it which means it remains hidden, and acknowledge it as part of the messiness of life. A choice that many people with lived experience of issues challenges seem to also share, based on the origin stories of so many social entrepreneurs, and founders of charities. 

However, if we do decide to accept these harder things that all around us, and try and figure out what our role might be in lessening the pain they cause, we need to be careful that we don't end up becoming overwhelmed ourselves (research shows that social entrepreneurs are the group of people who are the highest risk of burnout). For me, part of trying to figure out that balance involves encouraging apparent silliness whenever and wherever I can: because there's enough darkness out there already. We all need to try and bring what light we can for the benefit of all of us.

how to make carer's leave work for carers?

Earlier this year, there was the introduction of a piece of legislation that gives people in work, who also have unpaid caring responsibilities, the right to take up to a 'week off' as part of how the can better support the person who relies on them in that role.

However, as various researches and stories shared to coincide with the recent #CarersRightsDay by various carers bodies highlighted - most employers (and carers) aren't aware of this, and of those that are, most can't afford to ask for it or take it. This is largely because:

• people in work who are also carers are more likely to already be in poverty, so simply can't afford to take this time off unpaid;
• many businesses' workplaces may struggle to offer the flexibility that a person needs (for example - if they're a teacher, work in a clinical role, or as part of a manufacturing or engineering firm);
• lots of carers simply don't recognise themselves as being such, or if they do, are afraid of recriminations or damage to their future careers if they 'come out' to their employer.

And as a result of their not being able to take this leave, carers are:

• leaving their jobs in droves: currently, in the region of 600 people every day quit their jobs, because they can't balance their paid role with their caring responsibilities. This means a growing loss of skill and talent for businesses, and more people entering a life of poverty (because the act of being a carer means that, typically, you 'loose' at least £20,000 in earnings you would have otherwise earned each year);
• increasingly unwell and becoming mentally ill, because they're having to use their holiday leave entitlements to fulfil caring responsibilities. This leaves them no time to rest and recover, which means that they're accelerating when they'll reach burnout and breakdown points. 

All of this has been percolating around the back of my head over the last few days, and if anyone has a magic wand going spare (or knows where I can pick up a magic lamp with a genie it), this is what might help:

1. Extend the government's existing Access to Work scheme: this was designed to support people with disabilities or mental ill health to gain/remain in work, and is based on the Equalities Act. Carers are (in theory) also covered by the same Act, so what if Access to Work could be flexed to recognise and support carers as well? This would enable employers to invest in/introduce practices and systems that they might otherwise struggle to be able to. And yes, this would mean an increase of cost to the government, but it would also mean more people are able to stay in work, and employers are able to retain the skills and talent they need for growth.
2. Create a 'carers note' system, akin to current GP's 'fit notes'. This would help employers be able to better recognise and 'legitimise' employee's needs as carers, and might also help individual carers better identify as such (most of us don't 'claim the badge' until we've been doing it for around 3 years on average). This also then links into the next idea...
3. Get the Treasury to offer employers the ability to reclaim the cost of an employee's salary when they're on carers leave, in the same way they currently can for maternity and other types of family leave. Carer's are nearly always caring for a family member of some type, so it's in keeping with current systems and rules; and this would also mean that Carers could afford to take this leave too. And yes, it would mean a higher cost to the government, but as with extending the Access to Work idea above, the return would surely show it would be 'fantastic' value for money, on the same grounds?
4. Get higher visibility and profile for carers and carers needs in workplaces, not by recruiting 'ambassadors', but targeting the people that most small businesses listen to and trust the most: their accountants and trade bodies.
5. Finally, remove the +20% growth potential requitement that businesses have to evidence to be able to access funded business support programmes, so more employers can get support in working out how to make options best work for them and their employees who are also carers. Otherwise, lots of employers will continue to lose skills and talent, and increasingly perform less well, which will contribute to the wider economy grinding to a halt...

These is all based on existing government schemes, programmes, and legislation, so in theory, not that difficult to introduce or legislate for?

And... for the half a million of us sole traders and freelancers who currently don't have these same rights as our salaried counterparts (in fact, we don't have any!), these would all largely directly apply to us as well, which helps to remove some of the discrimination we currently face in working in this way.


And yes, any changes to systems that offer government payments can be open to abuse and fraud - but there are already safeguards and checks and balances in place for all of the above where these might be needed, including the DWP's own longstanding practice of being able to recognise a carer and authorise them as an 'appointee' to manage disability payments and other benefits that the person they care for is entitled to receive, if that person is not able to do so themselves. So another example of how the systems and infrastructure needed is already there...

But what do others think?

How audacious, crazy, unfeasible might some of these ideas be?

If you're not prepared to 'burn out', maybe you shouldn't be a social entrepreneur...

With the start of a new decade, resolutions abound - and they're usually to do with trying to be healthier and taking greater care of ourselves. Indeed, there seems to be a growing trend in many Facebook and LinkedIN groups that I'm part of to encourage more open and honest conversations about our mental health and well-being.

And this doesn't seem to be a passing fad - the imperative to do so seems to be increasingly supported by evidences and research, highlighting the cost of 'burn out', particularly for/to social entrepreneurs... https://uk.reuters.com/article/entrepreneurs-social-mentalhealth/doing-good-found-to-take-its-toll-as-more-social-entrepreneurs-report-burnout-idUKL5N2715KT

But I can't help but want to 'poke this with a stick' a little bit, and suggest that actually, burning out may be exactly what a social entrepreneur needs to do, if they're to fully achieve their vision.

You see, to my mind, "social entrepreneurship" isn't about creating the next big social enterprise that will magically create hundreds of jobs for people who otherwise wouldn't be able to work, or managing to somehow stop all plastic pollution by itself (as they're often envisaged and encouraged to be by policy makers and similar). 

I have an idea that a social entrepreneur's biggest impact is actually more through how they influence others, and contribute to changes in others' practices and understanding more widely - and in doing so, can have a far greater reach and generate far more change than a single venture could ever hope to.

And in that regard, they're a bit like artists - many of whom seek to re-imagine the world as it is, or could be; to offer us a critical and fresh perspective that gives us pause to reexamine what we think we know and understand; and in doing so, become a fuller and more complete person.

And just like social entrepreneurs, artists struggle too - with many never seeming to manage to achieve their 'break through moment'. But sometimes, one does, and in doing so, creates a piece of art, the legacy of which completely changes the way everyone around the world who sees it, is challenged to revisit their assumptions and prejudices about a subject matter.

One famous example of this, is Edward Munch's "the Scream"  

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Scream 

This painting that has subsequently inspired so much other media and cultures, has also enabled us to have more open conversations about pain and well-being, and even allows us to communicate with future generations who are likely to loose the language we use today. It has become one of the most iconic images in the art world ever.

As such, it's ongoing legacy surely symbolises what social entrepreneurs strive for themselves.

But we rarely talk about what it cost Munch to create: a crippling anxiety attack, likely brought on from being burnt out...

So, my question for all would-be social entrepreneurs is this: what price would you be willing to pay in order to create a legacy that will touch people's lives around the planet for generations to come...?