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Morning, Colleague
Well, 35 is off to an interesting start — I had to flee my birthday Airbnb in the night because of an overpowering smell of gas! Honestly, it was really scary, especially as we started feeling really sick and headache-y. The owner, a charming man, accused us of lying in order to get a refund, so we reported him to the gas board who, surprise surprise, found a leak. I’m glad we acted as he was booked up for the summer and it’s scary to think what might have happened. All in all, not the relaxing break I had in mind.
But, that said, it’s important to take breaks where I can. So today’s issue is about a daily dose of calm…
One thing I think is interesting about being self-employed is how even small changes can have a big impact on your quality of life. And often, when you discover them, you think: ‘well, duh. Why wasn’t I already doing that?’
For a while now, especially as I’m now entirely based at home rather than going out to coffee shops, I’ve been aware of the jarring shift from ‘work mode’ into ‘evening mode’. Tbh, I’ve been a nightmare to live with.
Like many people, I find it hard to relax at the best of times. I’ve found it a real challenge to go from chasing invoices/interviewing someone/generally rushing around with some level of adrenaline in my system, to sofa-slob. But equally I’m too tired to do anything else.
It’s worse if there’s something domestic that needs doing, such as making dinner. I generally finish work feeling completely drained, like I’ve given everything I have to give mentally, emotionally and creatively. So the thought of standing over a hot stove for another 40 minutes is not the one.
I’ve realised that, like a deep-sea diver – if deep sea divers were rarely paid on time and wrote about sexual violence – I need a bit of decompression time.
It sounds obvious — I mean, when I worked in an office I had the drive home, which wasn’t exactly a treat, but did allow me to change head space a little. I know lots of self-employed people find it helpful to add in a ‘fake commute’ by walking around the neighbourhood, or change outfits, as if stripping off their school uniform.
My own favoured technique is much less wholesome. I require at least 30 minutes, or ideally an hour, of absolutely no talking and trash reality dating shows. Sometimes I even get into bed, curtains closed, and shut out everything except Instagram stars trying to meet their perfect match (who are also Instagram stars. What are the chances?)
This utter self-indulgence has been really helpful for my marriage, as I am better able to rationalise my day after having that gap. Whereas before it was storming downstairs talking about my trash-fire career, or whoever had just sent me a pissy email, now there’s a bit of readjustment and compartmentalising.
It takes the white noise of Love Island, Are You The One, Too Hot To Handle (please let me know if I’m missing any, I could do with a bigger supply) to step back and view the day objectively. Generally, work is actually fine, or even good. When things are genuinely bad, taking that time for TV nonsense still replenishes my reserves enough to start problem-solving, rather than purely ranting. And hey, at least I’m not being mugged off by a man who plays football for a team called Hashtag United*.
*I appreciate this is a bit of a niche consolation, especially if you’re not a Love Island fan.
I’m so evangelical about my decompression zone that I’m giving this time my top priority. As silly as it may sound, I will stop work earlier if anything threatens to eat into it. Just as I prioritise a bit of exercise, or eating well(ish), I realise I need this time to put work down for the evening, and to be decent company for my long-suffering husband. I’m aware it’s a privilege to be able to spare so much time, but I reckon even the most time-pushed person could cut their work off 15 minutes early for their guilty pleasure of choice.
Eventually I might do other things with my decompression time. Perhaps on less demanding days I might do a walk or a yoga class if I felt like it, but I refuse to make it ‘self betterment’ time. It’s not. It’s not another chore that needs ticking off.
It is the anti-work space I need right now.
Do you decompress in some way before you start your evenings? I’d love to hear your chosen method!