A small change of scenery can make a big difference

Lesson #8 of 40

As I approach 40, I’m embarking on a year-long project to reflect on the lessons I’ve learned in four decades of life. This is lesson #8. You can read the full series here.

Welcome to my subconscious. (Getty Images)

I didn’t sleep well for the majority of 2020. From January to October, I was pregnant, and as the months wore on and my belly got bigger, falling and staying asleep became harder. For the last three months of the year, I had a newborn. You know how that went.

From March 2020 onward — you know how this went, too — we were in a pandemic. Like most of you, I spent the year in lockdown, stuck in my house, barely going anywhere. I would try and fail to tamp down the anxiety and fear that bubbled up day after day. Even without being pregnant, sleep was fitful at best.

When I did manage a night of deep sleep, I almost always dreamt that I discovered a new room in our house. I would happen upon a loose baseboard covering a lock, push aside a box in a closet to reveal a small door, or open a cabinet that I’d never bothered to open before. The location and discovery of the secret room were different each time, but the feeling of finding it was the same: Sweet relief! Finally, a change in the monotony! A new room meant fresh possibilities: Somewhere new to go, someplace new to decorate, something new to do.

I relished these dreams, and always felt a little sad when they were over. Eventually, I’d wake up — in my same old bed, in the same old house, moving through the same old rooms.

It makes sense why my subconscious would conjure up this fantasy. My home felt smaller than ever before. As the pandemic wore on and giving birth neared, I yearned for change — something to help me feel less physically and mentally confined.

I now live in a different house, in a different city and state. My bed is the same, but even then, I’ve gotten new sheets. My once-newborn baby is now a young child who (mostly) sleeps through the night. The severity of the pandemic has passed, and life has more or less returned to normal. We can go places, see people, and breathe a little easier.

I no longer have that recurring dream about finding a secret room. But I do regularly daydream about what I’d like to change in my current home. I keep a running list of projects in my head. Fix that door, paint those stairs, replace that knob, rethink this room entirely. These tasks are mostly practical, but there’s still some fantasy involved: when I think about fixing these things, I consider not how challenging or costly those projects might be, but how much happier, more content, and more productive I’ll be once they’re completed. 

The better version of myself always feels just out of reach. And the lack of storage in our kitchen is the biggest thing standing in my way.

I know this is ridiculous, but it’s the fantasy my brain loves to run with. I constantly gin up house projects but seldom take action. Everything I dream about — renovating our bathroom, fixing our cracking drywall, replacing the lighting in our kitchen — is too daunting, time-consuming, or expensive. Usually all three. Eventually, I give into the fact that, for now, these are just dreams. I half-heartedly convince myself that my surroundings are just fine, and, sure, I guess I am too.

A few weeks ago, I decided to move my desk from one wall of my office to the other. It now faces a window overlooking our backyard — a yard that, of course, I wish could be better.

When I’m sitting at my desk, my view is drastically improved. I love staring out the window when I’m deep in thought, and the natural light lifts my spirits. When I’m walking past my desk, though, the view is not so great. The side of the room where my desk is now located is cramped and crowded. The spot where the desk used to live is empty and awkward. The room feels imbalanced and incomplete.

Despite the lack of aesthetics, the desk move was a good one. It’s significantly impacted my ability to stay focused and inspired. It’s brightened my mood during working hours and led to some wonderful discoveries. I’ve seen several hawks fly through our backyard in the afternoon! How many times had I missed those glorious birds when my back was turned to the window as I worked?

Moving my desk was an act of procrastination. I was staring down the barrel of several back-to-back writing projects and couldn’t muster up the motivation to get started. So, I instead took action on an idea that had been bouncing around my brain for a while. I pulled out drawers, unplugged cords, cleared off papers and books, and clumsily shifted everything around. Before long, I had a new view as I worked — plus the motivation I had been missing.

Then, I began to write. I finished one big project I was working on and kicked off another. I made outlines, organized transcripts, and started first drafts. At one point, I added a new lesson to my ongoing list: A small change of scenery can make a big difference.

From left to right: The one aesthetically pleasing corner of my office, Abby Wolfe’s writing view, and Clare Egan’s tiny desk joys.

“What’s one (small) way you’ve changed up your working environment to make it feel fresh?” 

Invigorated by my desk move, I went to Substack Notes to ask other writers if they’d made similar changes.

Chloe Brooks

bought a “pretty (and affordable) keyboard that makes those delicious clacky sounds” as she types. This pretty, clacky keyboard makes Chloe feel like she’s getting more work done.

Last fall,

Clare Egan

introduced some nature into her workspace. “A few leaves and acorns from my daily walks made a huge difference!” she shared.

Abby Wolfe (she/her)

writes on her outside deck “as much as possible” before moving to her home office for the day. Sometimes, she’ll put on music — other times, she writes to the soundtrack of birds singing.

And

Sindhu Shivaprasad

frequently swaps out the paintings and posters on the blank wall in front of her desk. “I find that I start to channel the mood of that painting into my writing,” she shared.

I wasn’t alone. The benefits of my desk move were real. By total coincidence, a newsletter reader named Lori left a comment on a recent post of mine that summed up exactly what I was experiencing: “I used to say, ‘If things don't look like you think they should, change the window you're looking out of.'”

Yes! While Lori’s advice may have been figurative, I discovered that it sometimes takes a literal window to change my perspective.

It’s no coincidence that I decided to move my desk a few weeks ago. Summer arrives early here in Georgia, and I always find it harder to focus on work as the seasons change. I have trouble shaking the idea that warm weather is meant for swimming and lounging, not sitting in front of a laptop. That’s perhaps not a bad perspective to have, but it’s unfortunately unrealistic given my current workload.

I worked overtime throughout the past month, and my improved desk view helped fuel me through that busy period. This month, I’ll be doing the opposite: I’ll be traveling a ton, far away from my same old responsibilities, same old bed, same old house, same old rooms.

By this time next week, I’ll be on my way to Vermont, where my family and I will spend several days at a small lakeside cabin. I’ll sleep in a different bed, wake up to a different view, make meals in a different kitchen, and walk along different paths. I’ll spend my time relaxing by, kayaking on, swimming in, and listening to the sounds of a lake — a very different experience from my landlocked life here in Atlanta.

The daydreamer part of me imagines that this trip will be the thing that gets me closer to my idealized self. I was wrong! I didn’t need an updated bathroom. I just needed a vacation far away from it all! But I know that won’t be the case. As lovely (and much-needed) as lounging lakeside will be, our time in Vermont will come and go. The return home might be rocky. Before I know it, I’ll be back to the routines and work tasks and sights and sounds that I left behind.

I’ll return to my window-facing desk and discover whether it still holds the magic of fresh perspective. If it doesn’t — there’s an expiration date on these things, after all — I’ll consider another small change I can make.

I might take a walk outside, looking for the things that shifted in the week I was away. I may listen to something different or change out the photo on my computer desktop. I might actively choose these things, instead of letting algorithms lead the way. I may organize my closet and put on a dress that had been buried deep, long forgotten. I might tell my daughter about how I used to dream about secret closet doors. I may try a different flavor of seltzer water. I might take a few deep breaths, clear my mind of that endless improvement list, and remind myself how small changes do, indeed, make a big difference. I may view my office not as imbalanced and incomplete but as a work in progress — something that shifts and changes with time.

I might just realize that the version of me I’ve been looking for has been here all along.

xoxo
KHG