The forced days at home have disrupted sleep and increased procrastination for many, making the ordinary workday a huge challenge.
Less commute has freed up time which now goes staring at the many screens we have, which also makes us sleepless at night. Work input has decreased, and that is leading to a feeling of guilt and unexplained unhappiness.

Down Shifting Effect

The scenario of a life turned upside down can be improved by:
<ul>
<li>Monitoring the quality of one’s input.</li>
<li>Pushing yourself for some exercise, which is sure to beat the blues.</li>
<li>Reading actual paper newspapers instead of mobile phone articles.</li>
<li>More fresh food, less processed food.</li>
<li>Working with work clothes on, not pajamas.</li>
<li>Bringing a change in routine and scenery.</li>
</ul>

Change Your Actions

<img src="https://www.raptitude.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/05/vitalii-pavlyshynets-kcRFW-Hje8Y-unsplash550.jpg" width="550" height="367" alt="Post image for Focus on the Inputs">When quarantine started, I imagined my day would remain more or less the same before 5pm, because I already worked from home.To the logical part of my brain, this was a simple algebra equation. My nine-to-five life stays constant, and my social life and errand-running would be replaced by their awkward and sometimes challenging COVID-era versions.Two months later, the after-work stuff is running smoothly. My social life is fulfilling enough, on a rich diet of phone calls, one-on-one walks, and Zoom gatherings. I’ve become far more efficient at grocery shopping. (Why did I go so often before?)Achieving an ordinary workday, on the other hand, has become uncannily difficult. Whatever I’m trying to do – write a blog post, return an email, tackle a website bug – it feels like I’m moving through mental molasses. &nbsp;I suppose this is the “<a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2020/04/09/us/quarantine-mental-health-gender.html" dir="ltr">Quarantine Mind Fog</a>” many people have reported. I’d heard about its early signs: difficulty reading, excessive Redditing and TikTokking, unintended wall-staring, and googling the salaries of 1990s NBA stars.Sleep has been fitful. I’m lethargic when I want to be up and moving, and wired when I want to be unconscious. The act of sitting down to write feels as straightforward as training a cat. I have as much time as ever, but my output has waned.You may have experienced a similar down-shifting effect. What was once a manageable level of work may have become maddeningly difficult to achieve. Keeping the house clean, finishing your rounds by 4pm, or doing your daily stretches may have gone from a matter of course to an aspiration for the future.No part of a routine exists in a vacuum, I suppose. Social distancing leads to increased screen time, which leads to decreased sleep, which leads to decreased energy, which leads to increased frustration, which leads to increased snacking, and so it goes.I now accept that there’s an intricate spaghetti-sculpture of influences propping up any sort of “normal” day’s output. The mind and body need to be taking in certain ingredients in order to cook up your usual capabilities. What’s needed must be different for each of us, so there almost certainly isn’t a singular cause to the struggle – such as “anxiety,” as recent thinkpieces tend to assume.For the same reasons, there’s almost certainly no singular solution. I’ve tried to “step back” and “take a break,” as is usually suggested. I’ve also worked weekends and evenings. So far both have only resulted in more lethargy, screens, and snacking.I appreciate author Austin Kleon’s approach to the messiness of the output problem:“Problems of output are problems of input,” <a href="https://austinkleon.com/tag/input-and-output/" dir="ltr">he writes</a>. These few months have proven to me again how little connection there is between my “productivity” and my happiness. One thing I have noticed, though: I can be happy if my output is weak, but I’m rarely happy when my input is weak.This shifts the spotlight to the oft-neglected other end of the equation. Rather than trying to steer your output to a certain standard, what if you focused primarily on what goes in, and let the whole system process it naturally?I like this focus on input because it suggests that we’re not directly in charge of our output. Rather, we’re charged with the care and feeding of the complex, semi-autonomous system that generates the output.Instead of becoming ever more vigilant about getting myself to achieve certain outcomes, I’m monitoring quality of the input. I’m just trying to get more good things into the hopper, and letting the system do its work. Training for a 10k race, even if it ends up getting canceled. Reading paper books instead of mobile articles. More lentils, fewer pretzels. Wearing pants even when I don’t have to. Excursions to places other than grocery stores.Standard self-help rhetoric builds everything from output. The theory is that with clear goals and enough tenacity, we can seize control of the output end and make it produce what we want. All you need to do is define the result and accept nothing less from yourself. I will get X done by Friday. I will not let Y happen.There’s a place for these output-first approaches, of course, but they take for granted that the system is getting adequate inputs. And if life has recently been turned more or less upside-down, that’s unlikely. No matter how hard you train, you can’t build much muscle out of Lucky Charms.***Photo by <a href="https://unsplash.com/@fishmac" dir="ltr">Vitalii Pavlyshynets</a><h3>
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When quarantine started, I imagined my day would remain more or less the same before 5pm, because I already worked from home. To the logical part of my brain, this was a simple algebra equation. My nine-to-five life stays constant, […]

productivity

Productivity

personaldevelopment

Personal Development

health

Health

timemanagement

Time Management

When quarantine started, I imagined my day would remain more or less the same before 5pm, because I already worked from home. To the logical part of my brain, this was a simple algebra equation. My nine-to-five life stays constant, and my social life and errand-running would be replaced by their awkward and sometimes challenging COVID-era versions. Two months later, the after-work stuff is running smoothly. My social life is fulfilling enough, on a rich diet of phone calls, one-on-one walks, and Zoom gatherings. I’ve become far more efficient at grocery shopping. (Why did I go so often before?)

Achieving an ordinary workday, on the other hand, has become uncannily difficult. Whatever I’m trying to do – write a blog post, return an email, tackle a website bug – it feels like I’m moving through mental molasses.   I suppose this is the “<a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2020/04/09/us/quarantine-mental-health-gender.html">Quarantine Mind Fog </a>” many people have reported. I’d heard about its early signs: difficulty reading, excessive Redditing and TikTokking, unintended wall-staring, and googling the salaries of 1990s NBA stars. Sleep has been fitful. I’m lethargic when I want to be up and moving, and wired when I want to be unconscious. The act of sitting down to write feels as straightforward as training a cat. I have as much time as ever, but my output has waned.

You may have experienced a similar down-shifting effect. What was once a manageable level of work may have become maddeningly difficult to achieve. Keeping the house clean, finishing your rounds by 4pm, or doing your daily stretches may have gone from a matter of course to an aspiration for the future.

No part of a routine exists in a vacuum, I suppose. Social distancing leads to increased screen time, which leads to decreased sleep, which leads to decreased energy, which leads to increased frustration, which leads to increased snacking, and so it goes. I now accept that there’s an intricate spaghetti-sculpture of influences propping up any sort of “normal” day’s output. The mind and body need to be taking in certain ingredients in order to cook up your usual capabilities. What’s needed must be different for each of us, so there almost certainly isn’t a singular cause to the struggle – such as “anxiety,” as recent thinkpieces tend to assume.

For the same reasons, there’s almost certainly no singular solution. I’ve tried to “step back” and “take a break,” as is usually suggested. I’ve also worked weekends and evenings. So far both have only resulted in more lethargy, screens, and snacking. I appreciate author Austin Kleon’s approach to the messiness of the output problem: “Problems of output are problems of input,” <a href="https://austinkleon.com/tag/input-and-output/">he writes </a>.

These few months have proven to me again how little connection there is between my “productivity” and my happiness. One thing I have noticed, though: I can be happy if my output is weak, but I’m rarely happy when my input is weak. This shifts the spotlight to the oft-neglected other end of the equation. Rather than trying to steer your output to a certain standard, what if you focused primarily on what goes in, and let the whole system process it naturally? I like this focus on input because it suggests that we’re not directly in charge of our output. Rather, we’re charged with the care and feeding of the complex, semi-autonomous system that generates the output.

Instead of becoming ever more vigilant about getting myself to achieve certain outcomes, I’m monitoring quality of the input. I’m just trying to get more good things into the hopper, and letting the system do its work. Training for a 10k race, even if it ends up getting canceled. Reading paper books instead of mobile articles. More lentils, fewer pretzels. Wearing pants even when I don’t have to. Excursions to places other than grocery stores.

Standard self-help rhetoric builds everything from output. The theory is that with clear goals and enough tenacity, we can seize control of the output end and make it produce what we want. All you need to do is define the result and accept nothing less from yourself. I will get X done by Friday. I will not let Y happen.

There’s a place for these output-first approaches, of course, but they take for granted that the system is getting adequate inputs. And if life has recently been turned more or less upside-down, that’s unlikely. No matter how hard you train, you can’t build much muscle out of Lucky Charms.

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Focus on the Inputs

Down Shifting Effect

Change Your Actions

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