Taking a break is hard work, too

My lab table was littered with tubes and pipettes, remnants of an experiment that refused to work for several weeks. I was slumped against the bench, deep in despair. It was very different from what I had felt a few months earlier, when I started the research project of my master's degree. At that time, I thought I had managed to turn the code into academic success. After years of excellence in the classroom through intensive study, the idea that I would be rewarded if I worked hard enough was deeply ingrained in me. I spent long hours in the lab, filling pages of my notebook regularly and praising my diligence. When my experiences did not produce the exciting results they were supposed to get, I thought I needed to work more.

Yet I was here, working harder than ever, but without going anywhere. I did not know what to do.

It was late in the evening. Another person was still in the lab: a post-doc, who noticed my distress, came over and kindly asked how I got out of it. I told him about my difficulties with the experience. I did not tell him that I was also wondering what was wrong with me and how I felt like a failure. After discussing the experience, the postdoc said, "I think it's time to go home to sleep a little bit." He added with a smile, "Taking a break is also a job difficult, you know?

These comments laid the foundation for a new approach. Previously, when my non-researcher friends were asking me if the ethos of "ongoing work" common to academics was normal or healthy, I had cleared their concerns. Now I realized that they were on something. I've started doing it easier on myself, trying to make sure to be in the lab from early in the morning to late at night as an exception rather than as a norm. It was hard to rebuff the belief that long working hours are the hallmark of a good researcher and I came back into my old routine more than once. But things have improved a little. I felt less stressed and my research began to progress. Yet, in the back of my head, I always felt guilty for not working "enough". I did not quite understand what the post-doc was trying to tell me.

A few years later, during my doctorate, the penny lost the rest of the way. My advisor and I were in a coffee shop discussing an obstacle that our field of nanomedicine and many other biomedical fields had to face: research rarely translates into improved clinical outcomes. As he finished his coffee and rubbed his forehead, he said, "We have to work smarter, not harder." I'd never heard this mantra before, even though I now know that this Is common and it has resonated in me. It also helped me to see how universities are often organized around the opposite principle: working harder and longer is considered a virtue, regardless of the "quality" of that work.

This conversation helped me understand that new and exciting ideas do not come from a constantly pressured mind. My best ideas and "aha" moments come almost always after I let my mind relax, whether it's playing video games with my brother, preparing a nice dinner or going for long walks with my wife. I realized that working smarter can take a break. Fighting the academic norm of overwork, which consists of taking off for a while and fully experiencing something else, is an effort, but worth it.

Today, ten years after this opening night at the lab, I try to convey this state of mind to my own students. It was not so long ago, one night at the laboratory, I passed by one of my students, slumped on his bench. I slowly asked how she was doing. With a defeated look, she replied that the protocol was refusing to work, again, despite many attempts. I could not help but see myself all these years. We spent a long time discussing university life and what it means to be a researcher. I asked him why we do what we do. Often, it's about pursuing curiosity and passion.

How can we feed this spirit? The answer does not include working ourselves to exhaustion. Work-life balance does not interfere with research excellence, nor an optional bonus, but is an integral part of it.