Closing the laptop isn’t the same as finishing work.
Especially in software development.
Sometimes it is a rough day. I am tired, disappointed, and my ADHD is doing whatever it wants. I don’t know whether I should do the laundry, finish my work, answer that message, or stare at the wall for twenty minutes while mentally debugging something nobody asked me to debug.
And closing the laptop doesn’t magically end the workday.
There is always another bug. Another feature. Another deadline that looked perfectly reasonable three sprints ago. Another piece of code that technically works but whispers refactor me every time you open the project.
And refactoring?
Refactoring is a nightmare because you can always do better.
So where is the finish line?
Because the finish line probably exists. Somewhere.
In the mist.
And the mist is conveniently located at the edge of a two-kilometre-high cliff.
That is why learning how to switch off after work has become almost as important to me as learning how to do the work itself.
The Unfinished-Loop Problem in Software Development
Development doesn’t have the satisfying kind of ending you get from assembling furniture or baking a cake.
The chair is assembled.
The cake is done.
Software?
Congratulations. Version 1.4.2 is in production.
Now somebody found a bug.
There is always something that could be improved, optimized, rewritten, cleaned up, tested better, renamed, redesigned, or questioned during code review.
And this creates one of the biggest problems with work-life balance for developers: your brain never receives a clear signal that the job is finished.
Because technically, it isn’t.
But your working day has to finish anyway.
Time is the enemy here. Eventually things have to go to production, even if the code isn’t the beautiful, elegant masterpiece you imagined while drinking your first coffee.
I had to learn one important rule:
Don’t finish everything. Give everything a place to continue tomorrow.
That is a very different goal.
Instead of trying to eliminate every unfinished task before I stop working, I try to make sure tomorrow’s version of me knows where to start.
A short note can be enough:
- this bug still happens when X
- check this class tomorrow
- waiting for an answer from someone
- next step: test Y
- yes, this code is ugly; no, we are not fixing it at 18:47
Suddenly the unfinished task isn’t floating somewhere in my brain.
It has an address.
And tomorrow I can find it again.
My Developer Shutdown Ritual
Because closing my laptop isn’t enough, I created a small shutdown ritual after work.
Nothing fancy. No candles. No productivity journal with handmade paper.
Just a sequence that tells my brain:
We are done being Android Engineer Katarina for today.
My work shutdown routine usually looks like this:
- quickly answer messages from colleagues that actually need an answer
- power off my notebook because sleep mode is suspiciously easy to undo
- turn off Developer Options and wireless debugging on my phone — yes, I am an Android developer, so apparently even my phone has to leave developer mode
- clean my desk and work room
- check my calendar
- write down notes for the next day
That last point is probably the most important one.
I don’t want to spend the rest of the evening trying to remember whether I forgot something at work.
If it is written down, tomorrow-me can deal with it.
Tonight-me has other responsibilities.
Like deciding what is for dinner.
The Missing Commute When You Work Remotely
I mostly work remotely.
And remote work has many advantages, but there is one thing I genuinely miss: the commute.
Not the traffic.
Definitely not the traffic.
I mean the psychological transition.
When you work in an office, leaving the building creates a natural boundary. You pack your things, walk somewhere, drive home, take public transport, complain about public transport, and eventually arrive in a different physical space.
When you work from home, the journey from developer to person with a life can be approximately seven steps.
My work room is also a guest room, so I can literally leave work and arrive home in a few seconds.
My brain is not that fast.
So after my shutdown ritual, I create a fake commute.
Movement Is My Fake Commute
First, I usually train with an app for 15 or 25 minutes.
Why?
Because after sitting for a long time, I often crave sugar.
A lot of sugar.
Enough sugar to personally improve the quarterly results of several chocolate companies.
But very often, what my body actually needs isn’t sugar.
It needs movement.
So I exercise first.
Nothing heroic. I am not preparing for the Olympics after debugging Android all day.
Just enough movement to remind my body that it has joints.
After training, I usually go for a walk with my dog.
That walk is my fake commute.
It creates a clear dividing line between the working part of my day and everything that comes after it.
During working hours, I think mostly about work, Android, architecture, bugs, tickets, APIs, and whichever mysterious system behaviour has decided to ruin my afternoon.
But I am much more than a developer.
I am a wife.
A friend.
A daughter.
A dog owner.
A person who occasionally remembers there is a world outside Android Studio.
The walk helps me reconnect with those other parts of myself.
Hobbies Are More Than Entertainment
We spend all day solving problems.
And then, somehow, our idea of relaxation becomes opening another screen.
YouTube.
Netflix.
Instagram.
A game.
Another article.
Another app.
Another rectangle containing pixels.
There is nothing wrong with screens. Obviously I like screens. My career would become slightly complicated without them.
But I don’t want my entire life to happen through one.
For me, hobbies are more than entertainment.
They are a reminder that I have an identity outside software development.
At work, I am analytical.
Systematic.
I think about edge cases, dependencies, architecture, and what could possibly go wrong.
My hobbies allow another part of my personality to exist.
The playful one.
The curious one.
The one that doesn’t need to optimize anything.
The Best Hobbies Give You Something Coding Doesn’t
For me, one of the biggest things is movement.
Coding is extremely demanding mentally while being almost aggressively boring physically.
You can have the most stressful day imaginable while your body has essentially spent eight hours pretending to be furniture.
That combination is strange.
Your brain is exhausted.
Your body is underused.
And somehow you feel tired in both.
This is why I like hobbies and activities that give me something development doesn’t.
Movement.
Fresh air.
Physical objects.
People.
Animals.
Anything where Ctrl+Z is not available.
A good hobby doesn’t have to make you more productive.
It can simply make you feel like a more complete human being.
Don’t Turn Your Hobby Into Another Side Project
This one took me some time to understand.
Developers are dangerously good at turning hobbies into projects.
You start exercising.
Then you need a plan.
Then a spreadsheet.
Then statistics.
Then goals.
Then maybe an app.
Then perhaps you should build the app yourself.
Congratulations. Your relaxing hobby now has a backlog.
I did something similar with my own fight with obesity.
Movement could easily become another area where everything needed to be measured, improved, optimized, and judged.
But not everything you enjoy needs to become something you’re good at.
And definitely not everything needs to become a side hustle.
You can paint badly.
Dance badly.
Grow one deeply confused tomato.
Learn three chords on a guitar and refuse to learn the fourth.
Take photos nobody will ever buy.
Walk without tracking the walk.
Your hobby does not need KPIs.
Sometimes the point of doing something is simply that you like doing it.
Better Evenings Create Faster Mornings
There is another reason I protect the end of my workday.
Tomorrow.
When I don’t switch off properly, work follows me into the evening.
I keep thinking about a bug while eating dinner.
I remember something while brushing my teeth.
I mentally rewrite code in bed.
And then I wake up the next morning already tired of a workday that technically hasn’t started yet.
A proper remote work shutdown routine makes my mornings easier.
My notes tell me where to continue.
My desk is ready.
My calendar has already been checked.
I don’t have to spend the first thirty minutes reconstructing yesterday’s mental state.
Better evenings don’t just protect your free time.
They improve the next working day too.
Learn to Log Off
Software development is a never-ending story.
There will always be another bug.
Another ticket.
Another refactor.
Another interesting technology you apparently should have learned six months ago.
If your definition of finishing work is everything is finished, you will never finish.
So I am trying to use a different definition.
Work is finished when today’s part has a clear ending and tomorrow’s part has a clear beginning.
I write things down.
I turn everything off.
I move my body.
I walk my dog.
I leave Android Engineer Katarina in the work room.
Then I go back to being Kate.
Because I love development.
Well.
Most days.
But I don’t want being a developer to consume every other version of me.
Sometimes the most important command of the day isn’t build, run, commit, or deploy.
It is simply:
Log off.
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