Illustration by Jean Morrow
In the movie The Accountant, there’s a scene where a child is completing a jigsaw puzzle. When he discovers a piece is missing, he breaks down, repeating “Need to finish!” again and again.
I relate.
It’s Saturday morning and I want to finish.
At work, I have a list of 54 things to do by mid-July. One of those is a four-hour task due Wednesday. I’m taking Monday off which leaves Tuesday; and, with unexpected meetings a norm at my workplace, I’m feeling antsy about getting it done.
I want to finish.
I want to pour myself a cup of strong tea, open the laptop and knock it out. I want to clear this boulder from my list so I can get to the next one. Then, I want to keep going until there isn’t anything but the lowest priority left.
I want to finish.
I crave that flow state where time disappears, that rush of dopamine from crossing things off my list, that resultingfreedom in my calendar on Tuesday morning.
But here’s what I’m learning: finishing is a myth.
Every Monday at 8:30, I dive in and often don’t feel like I come up for air until Friday 5. No sooner do I take one piece off the list than another two take its place. The work is never done.
And, as history has repeatedly taught me, trying to get finished in one weekend burns me out – the very thing I am determined to resist this year. This, my Year of Calm, is about stressing less not by doing more, but by setting boundaries so I don’t.
But damn is it hard!
Not finishing leaves open loops: decisions you need to make, actions you need to take, and things outstanding. Too many open loops cause mental clutter and feelings of overwhelm. To personality types like mine – ambitious, conscientious, and may just a little too eager to impress – open loops get under your skin and wake you at 3 a.m.
So, I do what productivity guru David Allen, author of Getting Things Done, recommends: I write everything down. I file emails, I time-block, I update my master list every other week and tackle the easy wins.
My challenge isn’t that I don’t capture my open loops: it’s that I keep inviting more of them in and then I underestimate how long they will take.
Call it the curse of engagement.
I enjoy my work. It draws on skills I like to use and am good at. I believe it makes a difference in people’s lives, careers and, by extension, my organization.
I also get excited about new ideas and am confident in my abilities to execute them.
But I tend to forget rules like:
- Every hour delivered in a workshop takes six hours to develop
- A meeting’s work doesn’t end when the meeting ends, and
- Every email is an addition to your to do list.
I am also, if I’m honest, a bit of a show off. As my fiancé says, I am “addicted the adulation of achievement.” If there is an opportunity to ride in as the hero, I take it.
But, this year, I’m rewriting that story, reminding myself:
- Just because I can doesn’t mean I should
- Letting others step up helps them grow and
- Honestly diva! Get over yourself.
I want to finish.
But do I need to do it today?
Yes, my to-do list is long but work, according to Parkinson’s Law, expands to fill the time allocated for it: the more hours I put in, the more – not less – work I’ll have.
So starting this week, I’m going to protect my time like the precious, non-renewable resource it is.
When someone proposes a new initiative or asks “Can you take this on?”, instead of reflexively raising my hand or saying yes, I’ll say, “Let me check my calendar and get back to you.”
Then, I’m going to take 24 hours to reflect and very like say “no,” or “could we circle back in a few months?” or “have you thought about this person?”
I’ve discussed workload, capacity and goals with my boss and his boss. I have leverage to push back on requests outside of the things I’ve already committed to.
At home, my priority is peace and calm.
That means keeping up with this blog, playing music and enjoying summer on the Island. I want to spend my weekends with a paddle in the river, my guitar in hand, or my nose in a good book. These renew my energy and that helps elevate my performance at work.
I may never finish everything. But I’m no longer measuring success by what gets crossed off the list. I’m measuring it by how well I protect the life I want to live.
