I've always been fairly adept at multitasking—from engaging in dual activities like cooking while talking on the phone to juggling the larger overlapping and continuous responsibilities of life (career, home & family, and personal commitments). As one with a short attention span, I’ve found stimulation in these varied involvements. That is, until recently.
Naturally curious, I went online to dictionary.com to see what it had to say about multitasking. There I found an expanded "computing dictionary" definition, as it was the computer industry that first coined the term. (It's not surprising that we Americans borrowed it to describe human behavior since we often expect overly productive, machine-like output from ourselves and others).
Among other things, it said: "A multitasking operating system should provide some degree of protection of one task from another to prevent tasks from interacting in unexpected ways such as accidentally modifying the contents of each other's memory areas." Lately my “memory areas” have been “accidentally modified” as my multitasking has bordered on the ridiculous.
In an earlier post I wrote about returning to teaching after a six year break (and a 15-month hiatus from the work world). When I last taught, I was younger (read: more energetic), single and I wasn't also working as a freelance writer/columnist as I am now.
Most weeks I'm barely a step ahead of my students as I prep for two different courses; I'm not turning out as many articles or columns as I'd hoped; and my blog has been merely a nagging afterthought. Why? My health has sent me signals to slow down.
In the month since I returned to work, I've undergone a sleep study and discovered I have a mild case of sleep apnea; seen a sports medicine doctor for chronic neck and shoulder pain who ordered first x-rays and then an MRI to diagnose two bulging discs in my neck; started on a course of physical therapy several times a week to remedy the problem; and made numerous trips between the eye doctor and the optical place trying to get my middle aged eyes into prescription glasses that work at near, mid and far distances (I know it's asking a lot, but...). Then there are the daily commitments to husband and home, extended family and friends, and the organizations to which I belong.
Not long ago a friend asked me, "Do you think you're doing too much?" Although her delivery was polite, the implication was "DUH!" In my usual, I-Can-Handle-It manner I said, "No. I don't think so” (‘I don't think’ being the operative phrase). Because the aforementioned health issues have been impairing my life, I needed to take action.
Still, my friend's question struck a chord that resonated with me. I realized that I've been trying to heal myself all at once while keeping up an unreasonable pace of productivity with the other areas of my life, and it's been exhausting.
At my next physical therapy appointment, I heard myself say to the therapist: "I'm feeling overwhelmed. I think I need to cut back to twice a week." Since then, I've been re-evaluating my current obligations, health and otherwise, and focusing on the proverbial "First Things First," trusting that what needs to get done will get done.
It hasn't taken long for me to see that my bouncing from project to project, appointment to appointment, task to task--much like a pinball in a machine—has finally caught up to me and has me now metaphorically lying prone and calling out (if only to myself) "I've fallen and I can't get up."
Obviously, multitasking has value and purpose when not lived as a way of life. We all must at least occasionally juggle our obligations and divide our attention, but the question is clear: what is it that is really worth juggling? I’m in the process of evaluating just that as I modify some of my commitments and let others go.
To borrow another computing term, maybe I'll try the batch system for awhile: finish one task before beginning the next one.
