You and I have walked through the one-way gate.
Twenty-five years ago, I’d get dressed, have breakfast with the morning paper, kiss the kids on the forehead, grab my coat, and commute to the office with the morning sports radio guys. When the whistle blew, I’d turn off the machine, grab my coat, commute home with the afternoon sports radio guys, and kiss the kids on the forehead on my way back through the front door.
Your workday probably looked similar.
That daily procedure transformed us from our family identity into our work identity and back again. Two different identities split by time and space but linked by a commute.
But we didn’t stop there. On Tuesdays we’d grab our whistle and transform into coach. On Wednesday nights, we’d grab our notebook and transform into committee member. On Sunday mornings, we’d grab our shirt and tie and transform into pew-sitter. On the first Saturday in August, we’d stuff the car and head to the beach for a week.
All of these separate me’s were me, of course, but somehow compartmentalized. We sought and gained balance through the separation of time and space.
The internet, smartphones, and remote work blurred the lines. Now we check on work between innings. A quick email reply to the committee from the beach. The Sunday service from our couch.
The gate’s shut. Wishing won’t help.
We’re no longer looking for healthy balance. Now we need healthy integration.
To find it, look ahead, not behind.
