I used to have a career with set hours. I got up early and went to work 8-4:30 Monday through Friday. Whenever I worked overtime, I arrived early, stayed late, or showed up on Saturday. The schedule worked great for me because I compartmentalized my life. I knew that when I left the office I was done with work. It was the type of government job that does not permit you to take files outside the building. So, I worked extremely hard when I was in the office, and physically left the job at the end of the day. Sometimes, I emotionally clung to particular cases, but really I could turn the job off when I drove out of the parking lot.
When I returned to school full time, and lost my nice little cubicle space, I lost that ability to leave work at work. In grad school, I had a desk in an office shared with over twenty other people. And it worked. I usually went into the office around 4:30-5am every day--before anyone got in. Sometimes, I even stayed as late as 9 or 10pm. And even though I still worked hard, my work was never done. There was always something to do . . . and yet, it never seemed as though my work was focused. I constantly put out fires and only did what was in front of me. Often, I put off my own research in order to teach and please others. When I got home, all I wanted was a sanctuary. So I faced a constant battle of doing work or relaxing. I felt guilty if I wasn't working, and I developed a terrible habit of working in front of the TV. Never quite enjoying a show because it was background noise.
And then I completed my fellowship year in Europe. I hopped on public transportation at 8am, worked in the archive from 10-5, and then hopped back on the bus and train and got home at 7pm or after. I ate dinner and relaxed for the night--watching TV or reading for those 2-3 hours before sleep. I loved it. I worked half a day almost every Saturday and Sunday. There were a few months where I only took one day off. (I would not advise this of course as it's pretty stressful. I went out with a guy one Saturday and had not taken the time to decompress. I was really lucky that he was such an understanding person and forgave me for being so scattered and short-sighted!!)
Coming home to the States though, I lost my mojo. I don't know if I OD'd on work or what, but I have a problem concentrating and getting work done. I have problems working in my office--I get too twitchy. I can't work at home because all I want to do is watch TV, clean, or sleep.
I used to work really well in coffee shops. But I think that London spoiled me for American shops. I can't find a comfortable library to sit in. I think the chilly rooms and small cubby holes of the Senate House Library and the somewhat focused atmosphere of the British Library (because let's face it, the BL isn't what it used to be) spoiled me for the unfocused atmosphere of Starbucks and American university libraries.
So, I ask myself, how can I discipline myself to work? When I'm home, I want to relax and try to enjoy some personal hobbies. When I am at work, I find myself doing anything but my own research.
Since May, I have moved to another town, and this semester, I have promised myself that I will not go to campus on the days that I do not teach. I think that the gods heard my prayers because I have seven coffee shops within walking distance and another within an easy drive. Each has a different vibe and depending on my mood, or coffee preferences, I can have a good work session.
The one that I especially like is quite cozy--kitchen tables and wooden chairs of various shapes and sizes; a small living room set up; lots of art; black and white tile flooring; and a nice mellow green accent throughout. Good coffee and a nice selection of teas. Best of all is the quite clientele. It still has that white noise background, but almost everyone who comes in is focused on work or having quiet conversations. Gosh, it is sweet! I can sit for hours and concentrate--not even realizing that the time is passing, and when I walk home, I feel like I have accomplished something productive. Even if it is as little as doing some edits on paper or reading a chapter.
My guilt, and accompanying anxiety, as slightly decreased. Dare I say that I am starting to find my rhythm . . . as shaky as it is?
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