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Jill Farmer left her crazybusy life as a TV anchor and found herself just as distracted and overwhelmed being a mother and homemaker. Finally it dawned on her that the reason wasn’t her to-do list, but the anxiety that drove it. She’s since become a life coach and written a book, There’s Not Enough Time…and other lies we tell ourselves. I opened it dreading one more self-help book that was either dreamily vague or full of silly exercises. Instead, the book’s thoughtful, a perfect balance of solid insights, warm humor, and practical tips. By page 5, I was jotting bits I wanted to remember. When I closed the book, I called Farmer.
Why do we love to tell each other how busy we are?
I think there’s a ton of cultural reinforcement for it. The more we do, the more valuable we think we are. And we get in the habit of saying we’re busy; it can become a smoke screen, a protective mechanism. It’s uncomfortable to say, “This is somebody I don’t really want to be with”; “This is something I don’t really want to do.” But mainly, we equate doing more with contributing more.
Our culture tends to look at the world quantitatively, as stuff to be counted. More is always better—even if it’s not deeper or wiser or more careful.
Exactly. And you can have this long to-do list that you’ve completed, without any sense of accomplishment. Meaning comes from a different part of our mind than that ticking-off side. That’s more from our ego, and there’s no satiating our ego. It’s never enough. So when it’s all about just crossing things off your list—that’s the old productivity mode, where I spent my life spinning around thinking that if I could just do enough, I would be enough.
Are Americans worse about overbusyness than most?
From the time I’ve spent in Europe, I’ve gotten sense of there being “on” time and “off” time that is more distinct than what I witness here. It’s “For God’s sake, take at least a month off” versus “How dare you be gone more than three or four days?” and “Aren’t you a better human being because you never take any time off.”
Parisians rarely seem rushed or harried.
They’re very clear on priorities. When we are in that frenzied state, we lose the ability to prioritize. Whatever’s coming at us feels important/dangerous/threatening. Everything feels like a really big deal.
We kind of do this to each other, don’t we?
When other people are in fight-or-flight mode, it triggers, biochemically, that mode in us. Emotional contagion has been theorized for a long time, and now, thanks to functional MRI, we know it’s a real thing. When somebody else is in fight-or-flight, we go on alert as well.
With all that adrenaline pumping, why do we have such a hard time getting things done?
I think it’s because we’ve told ourselves a lie: that the only way to get stuff done is when we feel there’s a shortage. “The only time I can lose weight is when I dislike myself enough.” In the long term, you cannot motivate yourself from a place of beating yourself up. When we are trying to motivate ourselves to accomplish from this place of lack and shortage and shame, the hamster wheel starts spinning.
Of all the practical tips you coach, which one has helped you the most?
The “turtle steps” I borrowed and adapted from Martha Beck. I’d told myself such stories: that it needs to be hard in order to count; that I needed a chunk of time before I began. That just kept me from doing anything. The recognition that five minutes is enough, and the more ridiculously easy the steps, the more likely it is that I begin forward motion—that made all the difference.
You write about prioritization zones—how did you come up with them?
They were inspired by Stephen Covey’s quadrants of productivity, which started me thinking about where I was spending my time. I wanted to make time to do things that had deeper meaning, that connected to my values, because that’s where we get the deepest sense of accomplishment. When I analyzed why that wasn’t happening, I realized I ended up stuck in the stressed-out zone and the hamster-on-a-wheel zone. I wasn’t good at prioritizing, so everything was fight-or-flight. I was hiding out in some ways from doing something bigger that would be more vulnerable.
There’s a third zone, procrastination, wherein dwell such time-eaters as TV and the Internet. How do you know if you’re a true procrastinator?
Some people tend to be quick-starters: They think of something and do it. Some do everything last-minute. Most people who are true procrastinators, it doesn’t mean last-minute, it means we are putting things off that are necessary or add meaning, in a way that creates stress and problems. Oftentimes the roots of procrastination are perfectionism. I have to take enough time to make sure I can get this done right. We’re waiting for the windfall of more time, the windfall of adequacy. But those ducks just never get into a row.
You’ve gotten past that; how do you help your clients?
We dig down to the reason for the procrastination, and we look at the 80 percent rule—the cardiologist who says 80 percent clear is better than 100 percent clear, because trying for 100 percent might blow the blood vessel. Better can be the enemy of good.
OK, so we’re not striving for 100 percent perfection—does that mean we can relax and have a little fun?
Fun is huge. Rest and fun. The research is powerful: We know that when we give our brain a chance to reboot, it energizes us in a way that increases our focus, our creativity, and our productivity. Most of us are used to that Puritanical model in which we “deserve” fun once we have completed our tasks. The problem with that is, very seldom do we get to that completion, at least if we’re hard-driving, productive, creative people. I urge clients to make time for fun, in a container, within the list of things they’re trying to do. If you have five things on your to-do list, take time out after the third one to do something that lights you up.
What if you find yourself doing nothing but having fun?
When people tell me that’s why they’re not getting anything done, I dig down, and usually what they’re doing isn’t really fun. It’s hiding out. Surfing the Internet, playing on Facebook or Pinterest… They’re avoiding doing something else.
Until there’s no time left to do it.
Exactly.
