As a freelance writer, the structure of my work day can often vary wildly. Sometimes I feel like I have too much to do; other days, very little.
However, no matter what my 9-5 schedule looks like, one thing remains constant: emails. I get around 100 a day, from the absurd (Tesco Clubcard updates) to the infuriating (the PR who keeps sending me Taylor Swift’s fluctuating Instagram follower numbers) to the important (editors, who often wonder when the article they asked me for). writing could materialize).
Typically, the first thing I do after turning off my phone’s alarm in the morning is check my emails, and the last thing I do before putting my phone away at night is open my email app to delete unread missives. Throughout the day, my phone rings and, always assuming it’s something important, I check it.
About a year ago, I found that the tic of checking email was more distracting than usual. I spent every morning “scrounging around the bathroom” to respond to overnight messages, and when I sat down at my computer to work, I found myself nervously checking my phone for unread emails every time I suffered a mental block. I also accessed emails on my computer, but for some reason I ended up checking push notifications from the app on my phone twice as often.
Worst of all, when I took time to eat lunch or go for a walk, that habit of checking or anticipating the buzz of a message would come with me, making my breaks an extension of the work day.
The little red dot next to my Gmail app had become a marker of my professional personality: the greater the number of unread emails, the more I felt like I wasn’t doing a good job. As long as I responded quickly to the people who needed me, I told myself, my payers would continue to consider me trustworthy and therefore worthy of the work I needed to pay my electric bill and be able to charge my phone. read my emails and the endless cycle continues.
Except speed doesn’t always mean quality. I was always contactable, but at what cost? I had started responding too quickly, taking on too much work, and not leaving myself space to think about the value of what I was producing. The content machine churned and I was busy, spitting word salad onto the Internet.
Something needed to change. After a particularly hectic week of non-stop emailing, I decided to delete the email app from my phone.
The first few days without the buzz of notifications left me feeling nervous: I worried I was missing out on opportunities and instead checked emails on my laptop as much as I could. However, when I took breaks, the difference was immediately noticeable. Because I was physically away from my computer, I was forced to think about things other than work, or just not think about anything. I began to rest and recover better. My sleep quality improved and the lingering content of late-night messages no longer haunted my mind.
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Now, my work days are still unpredictable, but I’ve realized that a lack of structure doesn’t have to stop me from setting boundaries. Uninterrupted breaks help me focus when I return to work, and I’ve found that leaving a few hours, rather than minutes, to respond to a message often makes no difference to the sender and allows me to digest its content properly.
I’m still surviving as a freelancer in a rapidly moving industry, but I feel less overwhelmed knowing I can take up space when I need it. Now, I can spend my time endlessly checking my phone for Instagram stories and discussions with X.