With shelter-in-place orders in effect across the globe because of the novel coronavirus, many have suddenly, and unexpectedly, found themselves without access to the physical spaces (offices; fitness studios; places of worship) and basic structures (daily commutes; relationships; jobs) that previously shaped their day-to-day lives. I know firsthand how unsettling this can be, even without the added anxiety of contracting or spreading a deadly virus that has already infected more than a million people around the world.

In November 2017, I was working at a prestigious corporate law firm when The New Yorker revealed that my employer had retained Israeli intelligence operatives to spy on the women coming forward with their stories about Hollywood mogul Harvey Weinstein. The news was particularly disturbing to me as someone who, just a few weeks earlier, had made the difficult decision to come forward publicly to The Washington Post about my own experience with sexual harassment as an 18-year-old intern. 

About two months later, I left to launch the Purple Campaign, a non-profit organization to address workplace harassment in the wake of #MeToo. In a matter of days, I went from having a job in which I was assigned a steady stream of specific tasks—and required to track my time in six-minute increments for billing purposes—to being my own boss in an uncharted foray into social entrepreneurship. I suddenly discovered that the organizational systems I’d relied on for years no longer met my needs, and struggled to prioritize and balance the day-to-day demands of my new career path.

Staying grounded in my work became even more challenging that fall, when I separated from my husband and partner of 11 years and moved out of the house we shared. In the span of a year, I lost the two fundamental structures of my life (my job and my marriage) along with the physical spaces (my downtown office and my home) that contained them. As much as I loved the creative and intellectual challenge of building a new organization, I found it increasingly difficult to translate those abstract goals into day-to-day tasks.

The dramatic societal change currently underway has prompted a flurry of think pieces about how to create a work-from-home schedule and the importance of establishing a morning routine to boost productivity. Don’t get me wrong: this kind of advice is important and useful. Over the past two years, I’ve learned—through a lot of trial and error—how to balance my competing needs for flexibility and discipline. This has included establishing not only a morning routine (which consists of a daily prayer, meditation, and self-led Ashtanga yoga practice) but an evening one, too (which I’ll admit is largely dominated by my elaborate skincare regimen), along with other rituals that keep me grounded.

But while my routines help me start each day with focus and clarity, they haven’t always made it easier to get substantive work done—and that’s especially true when the future I’m working toward feels as uncertain as the present moment I’m living in. I often finished my morning routine only to find it impossible to sit down and focus on the work tasks in front of me. I’d procrastinate by doing other “productive” things instead (going for a run; meal prepping; organizing a friend’s bachelorette party), putting my work off until a deadline loomed, or an email landed in my inbox that demanded a response.

As my one of my work-life gurus Adam Grant wrote in a recent COVID-era column, there’s an explanation for this: people tend to procrastinate “when a task stirs up feelings like anxiety, confusion, or boredom” or when “you’re working alone on tasks that seem ambiguous and meaningless.” As passionate as I am about the work I do at The Purple Campaign, entrepreneurship came hand-in-hand with an underlying anxiety that I didn't fully appreciate when I dove headfirst into it two years ago, and which only increased in the wake of my divorce. I wasn’t having a hard time focusing on work because I lacked good routines—I was having a hard time focusing on work because I was terrified of the uncertain future ahead of me, both personally and professionally.

Over time, I’ve found a way to get unstuck in such moments: by reframing the task to focus on the people instead of the project. If my to-do list looms large with things that are intimidating or feel “ambiguous and meaningless,” I spend a few minutes focusing on the why behind them: the people affected by the anxiety-inducing or seemingly mundane assignment in front of me. As Grant explains, “we’re more likely to stay on task when we know other people are counting on us,” and re-framing to orient a project around them “can bring focus and meaning” to the work.

A few weeks ago, for example, when I found myself putting off signing the contract for our latest #MeToo Meet Up, I paused for a moment to think about the people behind the administrative task: the individuals who find community and healing at our Meet Up events; the survivors I’ve partnered with to develop the series; the employees at the Outrage who depend on fees from events like ours to operate their small business. The same approach works when I’m faced with a task that feels daunting rather than boring, like putting together the agenda for my first-ever Advisory Board meeting last December.

This global pandemic is affecting us all in both different and similar ways; simultaneously transcending and exacerbating the deep pre-existing socio-economic divides in our society. Regardless of the tasks sitting on each of our to-do lists right now, we’re all grappling with unprecedented uncertainties: the health and safety of our loved ones; knowing when we’ll next see cherished friends and family; finding financial security in an economic crisis. Focusing on the people at the heart of it all isn’t a cure-all solution, but it is a way to reconnect—and hopefully keep moving forward with—what matters most to each of us during this time of great upheaval.

About the Author: Ally Coll is the president and co-founder of The Purple Campaign.

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