In college, I couldn't get anything done in my room because everything made me sleepy and distracted. I literally would sit outside in the hallway and get more done there than in my own space, even though it was almost always noisier. I'd go to libraries, cafes, parks, lounges, weird nooks behind staircases... anywhere but my room.
Post-college life is the same. Teaching requires some preparation outside the regular workday (cough) so that meant I couldn't just clock out at the end of the workday and be done. Here's how it played out:
Yikes. I've talked about how anxiety made the last year much harder for me, as well as how it knocked my entire life out of balance (if looking at how I spent my time isn't enough of an indicator, I don't know what is) but there's another factor sending my mind into a frenzy that I need to address.
My space.
My apartment.
Why can't I work in my apartment?
One way I lowered my anxiety over the past few months was by keeping work at work. I wouldn't leave until I was done planning for the next day, hoping that I'd stop thinking about work when I got home (at 7pm, most nights.) And it worked, sort of...
I still didn't make dinner. I still didn't go on walks. I still didn't relax. My space didn't calm me down, it didn't help me unwind. Part of that, I'm sure, is because when I wasn't worrying about work, I was worrying about a thousand other, very important things. I didn't make everything outside of work as low-stress as possible. Everything felt like a burden. So I continued in my routine of guilt-sleep-repeat.
I'm sick of coming home just to sleep. I want my space to welcome me. To energize me. To make me happy. Actively happy.
Step 1: Make it beautiful. (i.e. decorate it with things that make me happy, and keep it clean)
I'm going to go knock out some challenges from UFYH while I listen to This American Life. When I feel frustrated, I'll use smallrooms to pump me up.
(One thing at a time.)
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