When's the last time you put up an OOO... And meant it?
͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏
Dear Doers, Builders, Creators, and Seekers,
Here's a question worth sitting with before you read any further: When's the last time you put up an OOO — and actually meant it?
Not just the autoresponder. You. Fully out. Mind included.
For a lot of us, the OOO is more costume than reality. We set it, close the laptop, walk out the door — and spend the next five days mentally cc'd on everything anyway. Checking in "just once." Answering the thing that "couldn't wait." Arriving home from vacation more tired than when we left and wondering why rest isn't working.
This July, I want to talk about what it actually takes to leave — not just the building, but your own head.
What does your summer look like this year — are you actually leaving, or just changing locations? Hit reply. I'd love to know.
Cheers, Eileen Murphy
P.S. — and speaking of giving your nervous system real signals to stand down: I am launching in August a free monthly webinar series on exactly that. More below.
|
|
|
|
Reflection: The Summer of George.
|
A few years ago, I had what I can only describe as my Summer of George.
If you're a Seinfeld fan, you know exactly what I mean. George Costanza, freed from obligation, decides to spend a summer doing precisely what he wants — fully committed, zero guilt. It's played for laughs, but honestly? There's something in it.
My version wasn't quite so comedic — my husband and I were wrapping up our time living in Denmark and preparing to move back to the US. I was in the early days of building Blackbird Life Coaching. The to-do list was real, the transition was big, and by any measure I had plenty to be anxious about.
But something about that summer felt different.
Maybe it was the light in Denmark in July — which is genuinely magical and almost unfair. Maybe it was knowing we were leaving and feeling the quiet urgency to actually be there before we couldn't anymore. Maybe it was that for the first time in years, no corporation had a claim on my calendar.
Whatever it was, I showed up. Fully. I was present for long dinners and slow mornings and swimming in the sea and bike rides that went nowhere in particular. I wasn't mentally composing emails on the canal. I wasn't rehearsing conversations that hadn't happened yet.
I was just — there.
And I noticed something: my thinking got clearer. My ideas got better. I started to remember things I actually liked about myself — the curious version, the creative version, the one who wasn't perpetually behind.
Rest didn't make me less productive. It reminded me who I was when I wasn't running on empty.
|
|
|
|
Reframe: Your OOO Is Not the Problem.
|
Most of us treat unplugging like a willpower challenge. We tell ourselves we just need to be more disciplined — to resist the pull of the inbox, the Slack notification, the low-grade anxiety that something is falling apart without us.
But willpower isn't the issue.
The issue is that we've trained ourselves to believe that our presence equals our value.
That if we're not watching, responding, anticipating — we're falling behind. Dropping the ball. Being seen as someone who isn't serious.
That belief doesn't take a vacation just because you do.
The reframe isn't "try harder to relax." It's this: What would it mean to trust that things can hold without you for a week?
Not forever. Not carelessly. Just — for a week. (Okay! Or a few days. We start where we start.)
Because here's what I've noticed in myself and in the people I work with: the inability to unplug is rarely about the job. It's about a story we're telling ourselves about what happens when we let go, even briefly.
That story is worth examining. Preferably somewhere with good natural light and nowhere to be.
|
|
|
|
Restore: A Real OOO Practice.
|
Before your next vacation — or even your next weekend — try this: Write down the three (3) things you're most afraid will go wrong if you actually unplug.
Be honest. Not the professional answer. The real ones.
Then ask yourself: How likely is that, really? And if it did happen — could it be handled without me?
Most of the time, the answer is yes. And the relief that follows that honest answer? That's the beginning of actually resting.
One small addition: tell someone. A colleague, a manager, a partner. "I'm going to try to actually be offline this week." Saying it out loud makes it a commitment rather than a wish.
Your nervous system needs to know you mean it this time.
|
|
|
|
Becoming Your Sensible Self.
|
Here's something worth sitting with: most of us have spent years waiting for someone else to tell us it's okay to rest.
A manager who models recovery. A company that actually means it when they say "we value work-life balance." A culture that doesn't quietly punish you for logging off.
And maybe that permission never came. So you kept going.
Self-leadership starts with a simple, uncomfortable shift: you become the one who decides what you need. Not your company. Not your calendar. Not the unspoken rules of your workplace.
You.
This summer, practice being the leader you've been waiting for. Give yourself the OOO you'd encourage someone else to take. Protect the recovery you'd advocate for in someone you care about.
You don't need a title to lead yourself well. You just need to decide that your development — including your rest — belongs to you.
|
|
|
|
Your Nervous System at Work — Free Monthly Webinar Series A free 30-minute series for professionals ready to understand the body they've been pushing through, not just push through it harder. Topics include interrupting the stress cycle, naming your real sources of stress, what chronic stress does to your body, and recognizing capacity before burnout takes over. Learn more and register here.
Come to one, or come to all five — each session stands on its own.
|
|
|
|
Ready to go deeper on this? Let's talk about what rest, pace, and presence look like for you — specifically. blackbirdlifecoaching.com
|
|
|
|
|
© Blackbird Life Coaching
2105 Wilmette Avenue | Wilmette, IL | United States | 60091
This email was sent to [[contact.email]] because you've subscribed on our site or participated in an event.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|