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During my first six and half years practicing law, I prided myself on what I thought was productivity and efficiency through multitasking. While walking to the subway or dining with friends, I was on the phone, replying to clients and sending out directives.
I thought this instant response made me a better lawyer. In truth, it was an addiction that kept me distracted from an unfulfilling life outside the office. Lulls on work email were filled by push notifications from the New Yorker about an article I'd never have time to read, or "news" from Facebook.
Distraction was easy to come by, and for a time, I avoided thinking about the impact long hours and living in a perpetual state of flight-or-fight had on my health. Most nights, I relied on Ambien or wine to sleep. When a doctor questioned my high blood pressure, I blamed coffee. And though active, I couldn't shake the extra pounds I carried. This aligned with another hormonal imbalance — my menstrual cycle had been mostly absent during those years.
Eventually, I realized I needed to make a change.
Six and a half years into my career and on track for partnership, I missed the birth of my sister's first child. It was the final moment in a series of missed moments that woke me up to my dissatisfaction.
Within weeks, I decided to quit, but it was May, and our annual bonus didn't arrive until January. During those eight months, for the first time, I experimented with new work approaches and established guidelines to protect my time.
During the workday, I checked and responded to emails at set increments (every two hours). This gave me blocks of time to do the tasks, like brief writing, that required the most concentration and usually got pushed to nights or weekends when I was already tired. I turned off notifications on my computer and screened phone calls to prevent intrusion. I also took mental breaks during the day, trading my lunch at the desk for a walk outside.
On weekdays, I didn't check my email until I arrived at work and only once after I left. I also adhered to a more rigid work schedule—getting to the office at 8 a.m. and leaving by 6 p.m.
On weekends, I left my work phone at home and went hiking or running in the woods — hobbies I'd long ignored.
I also turned off push notifications on my personal phone (including news and social media apps) and employed the same batch-email responding tactics.
At first, I lost time inventing excuses: "Weird, I didn't see your email." But days passed without the need to use them, and soon, I began to see that the fewer emails I sent, the fewer I received. I also noticed when I gave communication my full attention, I responded more quickly and thoroughly. I also got concentration-heavy work done during the day when I was most energized.
Over those eight months, my sleep improved, my blood pressure dropped, and two months in, my menstrual cycle returned and has been regular in the nine years since.
But what I didn't expect was how I became a better lawyer. This was most apparent during a presentation I gave on behalf of a client to the Department of Justice that August. When doing a similar presentation months earlier, I'd canceled weekend plans and worked late nights to prepare. In August, I prepared during the weekday blocks I protected and was able to visit family the weekend before. At the presentation, I was confident and relaxed in a way I'd never been.
During the second half of that year — July through December — I had my systems down such that I worked (and billed) half as many hours as I had in the prior six months. The kicker: No one noticed. My caseload stayed the same, my year-end performance reviews were as good as ever, and when I gave notice, everyone was surprised.
Those months taught me that the job I'd been doing for years could be done much more efficiently and with much less stress. I still use the tactics I learned during that time.
