My best productivity advice
I’ve gotten a lot of positive feedback on last week’s issue about stopping work even when you don’t want to or think you can’t. (Thank you!) I want to clarify one thing about it, and about a lot of creativity/productivity musings, both mine and other people’s. It’s something I think often gets ignored or downplayed, when in reality it’s the most important part of the whole experience. It’s literally the thing that will make or break your ability to change a habit or implement a new routine or take a piece of advice like “stop at a set time” or “don’t check social media so much.” Here it is, the most important thing I can tell you:
It’s going to be excruciating.
Doing less, turning off, saying no—these things are really hard. And not just because social media is addictive or whatever, but because they run counter to every cultural message we’ve absorbed for our entire lives, not to mention some deep truths about how the mind works. They can also have real negative consequences, especially if you’re trapped in a toxic workplace where you’re punished for making your bosses feel even the slightest twinge of impatience or annoyance. I don’t want to discount that reality, at all, and only you know if that’s your situation. (To quote OG newsletter fave Today in Tabs, you can always quit.) But I know for me, the toxic boss who’s hardest to stand up to is the one in my own head.
Take what happened last year when I decided to start doing yoga in the mornings instead of the evenings. And not the particularly early morning. More like 9:30 am. During the *gasp* “work day.” I’m a freelancer, writing a book. Literally no one cares what time I work. And still, I was so anxious. For weeks, months, maybe even years I’d told myself that doing morning yoga was “impossible.” Then it became undeniable that it would make the rest of my day so much better—even, especially, the work parts. So I decided to try it.
I was a wreck. I had already detached from morning Twitter scrolling and first-thing email checks, and yet for some reason I was convinced I was making a horrible mistake by doing yoga instead of opening my inbox. I was inconveniencing so many people! I must be needed for something I didn’t know about, and now I was dropping the ball! Someone, somewhere might be mad at me!!
Well. I’d done enough therapy by then to know those feelings were not actually about email. But that doesn’t mean they weren’t real, or that I didn’t feel them just as strongly as I did the first time I’d decided to choose unavailability over responsiveness, as well as every time since. If any of this has gotten easier, it hasn’t been because I’ve stopped having those feelings. It’s gotten easier because I expect and accept that it will feel horrible, and I let that be ok.
At first, I did 30-minute yoga classes (sometimes less!) because that was all I could take, and I rushed to my inbox afterward. Slowly, day by day, I learned that nothing bad was happening. No one noticed, and if they did, they weren’t bothered enough to tell me about it. I felt a million times better when I did get down to work. I started doing longer and longer classes and checking email later and later. Still, nothing bad happened. Now, unless I’m corresponding about something specific and time-sensitive, I don’t check email until at least 1 pm, and sometimes more like 3. Writing that for anyone to read still makes me feel a little panicked, but I rarely think twice about doing it.
Way back in one of the first issues of this newsletter, I wrote this about learning to speak Spanish:
When people talk to me about learning another language, they often say that the white-hot fire of embarrassment and shame they feel when they speak it means they must be doing it wrong. That couldn’t be further from the truth. You’re stammering and freezing up and praying that a black hole will open beneath your feet and swallow you every time you open your mouth? That means you’re doing it right.
The discomfort isn’t a sign that you should stop doing the thing. It’s a sign that you are doing the thing. It’s the same with resisting superficial productivity, deleting social media, or prioritizing rest. It’s the same with writing, which is a truth I’m still trying to learn. Doing it is excruciating, every time. The discomfort isn’t simply part of the experience, it is the experience. The less you try to run away from it, the farther it will take you.
Anyone who’s tried to meditate for even three minutes—and if you’re interested in productivity musings, I bet you have—knows this is all way, way easier said than done. I write this newsletter, and especially the issues on my work habits, not from a place of ease and perfection but angst and uncertainty. I write them to convince myself of their arguments; if they happen to convince you too, that’s a bonus. We’re all out here together, swimming in the discomfort. The trick isn’t to get out. It’s to keep swimming.