Photo Description: An old-fashioned time card machine hangs on a board surrounded by bits of paper and timecards.
We are a society built on high productivity. So much so that we even measure productivity (one definition is the amount of output in a given period of time) and announce it like it is news! We are so proud of how much we do and how hard our workers apply themselves for gazillions of hours a week.
Measures of Productivity
Unfortunately, we are also bad judges of what meaningful productivity is, the value of what we are accomplishing, and the unacknowledged costs of being so terribly productive.
For example, I could say I ran in place for 12 hours a day. That is a lot of activity and, if by some miracle I was actually fast, it could even be a lot of productivity! But it yields no actual value to anyone (OK, perhaps my theoretical leg muscles, but since I can’t run, not really). When we measure productivity, it is often by how much we produce or how many hours we work. But if what we produce is valueless, then is that a good measure of productivity? I’d rather work less, but have what I do provide value or help someone.
Additionally, there are lots of costs to this so-called productivity that are not accounted for in the math. I think if workers are stressed, unhealthy, and unhappy then the productivity score should be docked to reflect that reality. Basically, we are getting “high” productivity on credit and someday the bill will come due in high health care costs, burn out, and other societal ills.
Doing a Lot Over Time
At various points in my life, I have not been able to keep up with the spinning hamster wheel of productivity. I have had to step out of this awful game and set my own expectations of productivity.
For example, about 12 years ago when I had an unexpected infection of my 20+ year old knee replacement I had no choice but to seek immediate care and put my work on hold. I had two surgeries (one to remove the knee and the other to put in a new joint) spaced around injectable antibiotic treatments, followed by weeks in a rehabilitation facility, and months of physical therapy when I returned home.
My employer at the time was (very thankfully) patient and understanding. When I was able, I did some telework (hurray for this first experience!) and when I returned, ramped up my hours gradually as the health emergency was exhausting.
Due to the serious, life-threatening nature of this health issue, I had no choice but to throw away the cultural expectations of productivity (and it was not the first time, nor would it be the last). I had to change course and consider what was productive for me at the time? Resting, healing, and recuperating were the answers.
It was a serious priority-testing moment for me. After the urgency passed and I was doing better, I started asking myself. How should I be spending my hours of the day? How should I assign the limited amount of energy I have in a day/week/month/year? Even though I know I can get a lot done, should I aspire to that if the costs to my health and well-being are unrecoverable?
I came to believe that a lot of my best accomplishments in life were achieved slowly over time. For example, my college degree earned over four years and my graduate degree (while working full time) over several years. Most things worth doing, that are fruitful and useful, involve small steps over a period of time. The effort adds up to something more than just empty descriptions of productivity.
Embracing Crip Time
In recent years I have come to better understand and embrace the concept of “crip time.” There are some variations in meaning, but the general concept is that disabled and chronically ill people experience time differently than nondisabled people.
For example, crip time can refer to how much longer it takes me to do things like shower, dress, cook, shop, move about (ugh, transportation!), and more. It also refers to the many things the disabled have to spend time doing that nondisabled people do not. Such as going to lots of doctors appointments, waiting in waiting rooms, getting repetitive medical tests (blood tests are my bane!), long phone calls arguing with health insurance providers, advocating for accommodations (and fighting for accessibility). It can mean time lost doing things we have to do, but don’t necessarily want to do.
Crip time may also refer to how much powerlessness we have over our own time. It means waiting for others to get help, transportation, responses to reasonable requests, and so forth. It may involve having a flare of a condition like an attack of fatigue where we may just need to rest and watch time flow by like water that cannot be captured. It may just mean the time spent going around the long way via the accessible path because the shorter path has stairs, yet that time is now forever gone.
I have realized I cannot fight against crip time. It is just the time zone I live in, so to speak. It is here no matter how I feel about it. So, I have to make my peace, adjust myself, and remember that productivity measures are not truly accurate and don’t reflect the value that people bring to the world.
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I still have a hard time using the word "crip" even though I totally understand why the community took it back to reclaim it and change it's meaning. That being said, I love how you described the idea of "crip time". I kind of want to take a week in my life and add up all the extra time I have to spend on stuff related to my disability and accessibility. I get very frustrated with this time zone we live in sometimes but you're right, it's where we live and we can't do anything about it so we just have to keep going. Thanks, Kelly.