Apologies for the delay in my response.
I started nearly every email I answered this way. Until recently.
Over the last six months, I’ve made a conscious effort to stop apologizing for the time it takes me to answer emails. I’ve written before about my struggles with email and my attempts to tame my inbox. As I’ve spent time unpacking my fraught relationship with digital communication, I’ve realized that it’s deeper than just the stress of seeing that little number of unread messages creep up. It’s also feeling torn between the ping of urgency and the desire to carve out time and quiet space for creative work and genuine in-person connection with others.
This feeling of I should be able to do it all- respond meaningfully to all messages in 24 hours AND produce other high-quality work is deeply rooted in individualism (I can do it all, by myself) and capitalism (work hard in service of profit/mission at all costs). If toxic hustle culture had a mascot, it would be a plush version of the little red notification dot.
During this season of my work, with classes wrapping up and big end of the semester events I’m running on about a 10-day email response time. Not for everything, but for things that I know can wait a bit. I know it sometimes causes others stress. For example, I know that class a student needs an override in isn’t going to fill up, but the student doesn’t know that.
I think it’s important to acknowledge that I am also keenly aware that I could answer all my email in a more timely manner. In fact, I could use the time that I’m spending writing this, right this moment to attend to my inbox. I could also use some of my post-dinner/pre-bed time, as well. I know this is a strategy, because I see the timestamps on messages I receive— 5:30am, 8:45pm, Saturday morning, Sunday evening.
Just like not apologizing, protecting time for my personal creative pursuits, quality time with family and friends, and quite frankly to rest, is an intentional decision— one that feels both right and extremely difficult at the same time.
I want to do it all and do it all well. I think most humans do. I don’t take this rebellion against immediacy lightly. I know that there are people waiting to hear from me. I know at times my slow response causes stress on their end, and I deeply dislike that. But I also deeply believe that we’ve created an impossibly high bar and that continually trying to hoist ourselves over it is going to cause damage beyond repair. What pieces of our wild and precious life (h/t Mary Oliver) are we missing out on with our noses buried in our inboxes?
I want to finish out my manifesto on slow response time here with two things: gratitude and a challenge:
First up, gratitude. A huge thank you to everyone who shows me grace with my longer than most time to respond to things. When I say thank you for your patience I do truly mean this. It’s my choice to prioritize things differently than the norm and while I know it’s the right choice and important work, I do think about its impact on others. I’m overwhelmed by the kindness I’m shown. I also recognize that I am extremely lucky to work on a team where I am granted autonomy to make my own decisions about how I manage my workflow. I know this isn’t the norm and am hugely grateful to be able to stage small rebellions against email without fear.
Second, a challenge. To my point above, I know not everyone is in a place to back burner their inbox. BUT, I do think we can all fight the urge to apologize. So my challenge to you is this: next time your fingers habitually go to type a-p-o-l-o-g-i-e-s . . . STOP. Whether you’re replying 23 hours or 3 days after the message came in, pause, delete right over your apologies and replace it with thank you for your patience (or maybe nothing at all, if it’s just been 23 hours). It’s a tiny shift in semantics that changes the narrative in a big way, from one of remorse to one that invokes grace and kindness.
So go forth, show each other grace and stop apologizing about your email. Let’s normalize longer response times and set boundaries that allow us to do things that nourish our creativity and curiosity.
The email will be there tomorrow.
Beautiful Thing of the Week
Just one little something bringing me joy this week (read last week’s longer list here):
One morning last week I decided to switch out my typical podcast listening for music. I had completely forgotten the magic some upbeat tunes in the morning can have on my mood. I’ve started a playlist of Music for Mornings to remind me to do this more often. Sharing here in case you’d like to give this a try, too!
If you try my email challenge above, I’d love to hear your thoughts on how it goes! Also send over your favorite morning mood boosting music and I’ll add it to the playlist.
Be well, find tiny joy-
Mary Chris
Huge coincidence: just before I read this post, I replied to 3 day old email and I consciously deleted the apologetic preamble. My logic: 3 days is fast. The sender is in Oregon. Before email, our exchange would've taken two weeks (1 week each way by US Post). Speed obsession has negative impacts throughout the entire culture. The faster something is, the more it is prone to being inaccurate, ill conceived, callous, and perhaps even pointless. Slower is often gentler, calmer, wiser, and more accurate. Hurray for slow!