Scientists love to debate how long it takes to form a habit and then break it. Three weeks to make it, three months to unmake it. Five unstructured years to lock it in, five motivated days to abandon it.
What’s clear is, habits based on a daily routine are the hardest to ditch. They become mooring stones, and we attach ourselves to them emotionally as well as physically. They become part of our identity; in fact, they almost have identities of their own.
When they’re broken abruptly, when the activities they involved are taken from us, it’s like a death in the family, and we mourn. Elisabeth Kubler-Ross, DABDA and all that.
The morning of Oct. 23, 2018, I had one fewer email inbox to weed out. The ax had fallen. Economics in an industry struggling to transform.
My 10-year habit of digging through messages as the last thing before bed and the first thing on rising was snapped. Somebody else is getting them now, or maybe nobody is. Problems I likely could solve, possibly quickly … they’re somebody else’s problem. An SEP.
The Denial part of my stages of grief probably started before the actual change in job status. While nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition, we all knew — know — they’re out there somewhere, and we suspect they may come for us eventually. This pushmi-pullyu between hoping for the best but preparing for the worst keeps employees operating at optimum levels. Or, at least, it factored into my daily productivity.
As someone who has relied on having structure imposed upon him — a friend recently recalled my mantra of “give me a task and a deadline, and I’m your guy” — I’m working to cobble up a productive schedule I can live with until my next fully structured situation. I’ll start with listing and completing some tasks: updating the CV, compiling accomplishments and skills, networking and — importantly — decompressing a bit more.
