There’s a version of youth services work we don’t talk about enough.
The one where you care deeply about what you’re building… and so do others—but the weight of actually making it happen falls mostly on you.
Programs are happening. Kids are coming in. Families are engaged. From the outside, it looks like everything is working.
But behind the scenes, one person is holding most of it together.
If that’s you, I want you to know—you’re not alone in that experience.
And you’re not wrong for feeling the weight of it.
What That Actually Looked Like for Me
I was the Youth Services Librarian with one assistant. She handled storytimes for our youngest patrons, and I’m grateful for that support because she was truly made for that role. But outside of that, most of the department lived with me.
I planned and ran programs for elementary through teen audiences. I ordered and managed supplies, tracked multiple budget lines, and handled the entire youth and teen collection—fiction, nonfiction, early readers, games, kits, everything.
I managed social media and marketing for the department. I did outreach. I represented the library at community events. I built relationships with schools. I planned summer reading from start to finish.
It wasn’t that no one else cared.
But I was the one picking things up, pushing things forward, and making sure it all happened.
And over time, that adds up.
When You Start to Feel the Imbalance
There wasn’t one moment where it clicked. It was a pattern.
It was noticing that I was the one consistently showing up to represent the library in the community.
It was seeing simpler programs happening elsewhere while I was building full experiences from scratch.
It was realizing that when something needed to be done, it naturally landed with me.
One experience really stayed with me.
I organized a fundraiser to support an after-school snack initiative. I connected with a local minor league team and got things started, but asked the director to handle logistics and coordination.
A week before the event, the team owner reached out to me.
No tickets had been sold. The advertising was off. There “seemed to be a miscommunication somewhere”.
So I stepped in and rebuilt the promotion myself—on my own time—because I didn’t want the event to fail.
I coordinated everything. I brought in a face painter, bakers, a photographer, recruited volunteers.
The day of the fundraiser, the director didn’t attend.
Some staff did step in to help that day, and I appreciated that. But there was still a lack of leadership behind it all. Again, it fell on me.
The Complicated Part
Here’s where this gets hard to talk about.
Because I loved the work.
I loved building programs, connecting with families, creating something meaningful for my community. And I was good at it.
I was bringing people into the library, which made it even easier for the imbalance to continue.
When things are working, people don’t always stop to ask how they’re working—or who is carrying what behind the scenes.
What That Kind of Load Does Over Time
Even when you love the work, carrying most of it alone takes a toll.
Emotionally, it’s exhausting.
Physically, it’s draining.
Over time, I developed severe anxiety.
And professionally, I started to lose motivation in a role I had once poured everything into.
I did try to speak up—first to the director, then to the board.
There wasn’t support.
There wasn’t follow-through.
There was silence.
When It’s Bigger Than Burnout
It’s easy to tell yourself you’re just tired. That you just need to push through a busy season.
But sometimes it’s not just burnout—it’s a structural issue.
Here are a few signs:
- You are consistently the one responsible for planning, execution, and follow-through
- Responsibilities aren’t clearly shared or supported
- Leadership is absent, inconsistent, or unresponsive
- When you ask for help or raise concerns, nothing changes
- Your work is visible—but the support behind it is not
In youth services, especially, it’s easy to take on more because the work matters. Because the kids matter.
But that doesn’t mean you’re meant to carry it alone.
If You’re in This Position
I wish I had a perfect answer here.
I don’t.
But I can offer a few things I wish I had done—or understood—earlier:
1. Write down everything you’re doing.
Not to prove anything to anyone else—but to see it clearly yourself. The full scope matters. (this blog is now my journal)
2. Pay attention to patterns, not just moments.
One busy week is one thing. A consistent lack of support is something else.
3. Ask for help—and notice the response.
Support isn’t just offered. It’s demonstrated.
4. Give yourself permission to not carry everything.
This is the hardest one. Especially when you know things won’t happen unless you do them.
Where I Am Now
This experience changed me.
It made me question myself. It made me question the profession. It made me question whether I could go back to working in a library at all.
I’m still working through that.
Because this was my only library experience, and I don’t have anything else to compare it to.
But I do know this:
I cared deeply about my work.
I showed up for my community.
And I built something meaningful.
If you’re in a similar position, there’s a good chance you’re doing the same.
Final Thoughts
This work attracts people who care.
That’s a strength—but it can also be taken for granted.
Libraries should not rely on one person to carry an entire area of service.
Especially not youth services, where the work is constant, visible, and deeply relational.
You deserve support.
You deserve shared responsibility.
You deserve leadership that shows up.
And if that’s not what you’re experiencing, it doesn’t mean you’re doing something wrong.
If this resonates with you, I’d really like to hear your experience.
What has it looked like in your library?
What has helped—or what do you wish had been different?
Reach out to me here. I want to hear your story.
You’re not alone in this.
If you enjoyed this post and want to see others like it, check out these popular posts & subscribe to get the newest posts delivered to your inbox!
*This blog is intentionally ad-free. I want it to be a clean, distraction-free space. Here, public librarians can find practical ideas for youth services, outreach, and programming. There will be no pop-ups or sponsored clutter.
Some posts may include affiliate links for books or supplies I genuinely use and recommend. If you choose to purchase through those links, I may earn a small commission at no additional cost to you. It’s a simple way to support the work while getting materials for your own programs.
If you’ve found value in these ideas, please consider helping keep the blog running. I’m unemployed, so tips are always appreciated. They go directly toward hosting costs and content creation. You can do so here: https://www.paypal.com/ncp/payment/SPBXH4RPDHCCY
Leave a Reply