Transition Anxiety

The Art of the Dismount continued...

2. Plan your dismount backward.

Polychrones make vague, hopeful estimates about the speed at which we can get things done. We fail to plan for mistakes, distractions, traffic jams. Backward planning with worst-case scenarios can solve this problem. For example, Emma might plan her morning transition from home to work by beginning with the time she plans to walk into her office (say, 8 a.m.), then thinking through her morning in reverse, adding up the maximum time it might take her to ride the elevator, negotiate traffic, locate her keys, tinker with her makeup, bask in the shower, etc. Writing down this schedule and posting it somewhere visible will annoy Emma intensely but will help her stay on track in the morning.

3. Say goodbye before you say hello.

If solitary activities are hard for polychrones to end, social events can be absolute nightmares. Thinking you'll figure out how to disengage from a gathering when it's already in progress is like a gymnast planning to come up with the idea for her dismount halfway through an Olympic routine on the uneven bars.

Before you enter social situations, I suggest that you write yourself a little "dismount script," and rehearse it. Remember that you may have to say goodbye in several different ways before the tentacles of connection actually break: "Listen, this has been terrific, but I've got to run." "I'll give you a buzz next week, right?" "Okay, see you then!" "Take care!" Practice standing up and walking away as you recite these farewells. By the time you reach the door, even other polychrones will have resigned themselves to the fact that you're leaving.

4. Set up redundant reminders.

Polychrones need redundant "Stop!" reminders the way airplanes need multiple engines, each of which can fly the plane solo should the others fail. I set my alarm-clock watch to go off 15 minutes before I need to stop doing something. The alarm sounds every five minutes until I deactivate it, letting everyone know I need to leave (although one polychrone friend, hearing the beep-beep for the third time, burst out, "What does that thing want?").

If you're a true polychrone, get backup support from human beings to supplement mechanical reminders. I explain to everyone I deal with -- co-workers, children, friends -- that I'm transitionally challenged and they should call me on my cell phone if I'm even a few minutes late. Such calls often come in when I'm happily writing or rearranging the furniture. The monochrones in my life are so organized, they have no trouble remembering to remind me to show up.

5. Give the dismount half the energy.

Gymnasts who fail to "stick the dismount" get lower scores than those who muff a move earlier in their routines. Because endings are so memorable, they deserve about half the total energy you spend on any given activity -- that's right, half. This doesn't mean someone with transition anxiety should sprint off midway through lunch or a business meeting. Setting up your dismount means that you stop beginning new tasks or raising another idea, and begin moving toward closure. Start winding up your conversation, tidying the kitchen, organizing your documents, putting things away. Say, "So, what do you plan to do next?" or "Let's summarize our ideas for finishing this job." At the halfway point of writing an article, perhaps, stop describing the problem and start herding up solutions. (That's what I did here, and, believe me, it hurt.)

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