From My Briefcase: Advice from trenches: how not to work at home

I am a self-described expert in the how-not-tos of a home office. Later, in another column, I will share the how-not-tos of establishing a small business. I'm an expert in that, too.

When my children were still in grade school, I bought a big, old, drafty house that was perfect for an in-home law office. My purpose in the purchase was to save money on overhead the killer of many a small business such as mine.

The house was just right for a home office because it had an entryway with large rooms to the left and right. The one to the right became my law office. I had paneling professionally installed. Then, to save money and because I love to do stuff myself, I sanded, stained and polyurethaned the floors.

With my dusty volumes of Vernon's Annotated Missouri Statutes stacked neatly in the floor-to-ceiling bookcase, the room took on the patina of a lawyer's habitat. My Oklahoma and Missouri law licenses, Tulsa County district attorney commission and federal court admissions filled the wall behind my chair with professional prestige.

But then it came time to work. Aye, there's the rub, as Will Shakespeare wrote.

I can tell you without compunction that in my home office I worked harder than I ever did in my entire life, and that includes the time when I had two children in diapers under the age of 2. It quickly became impossible to separate the mommy and wife from the lawyer.

My children happily munched brownies after school and told me about their day. The laundry room sparkled with newly folded towels and clothing. My family gloried in the smell of garlic-encrusted roast beef that wafted through the house.

But I was pooped. It never occurred to me to balance my life that is, until I became overwhelmed. My life was so busy there was no time to examine it. A philosopher wrote that an unexamined life is not worth living. He's right.

But it was my own nature that caused my problems. I am a homebody. Like Beth in "Little Women," I would rather be at home than anywhere else. I loved my old house, the yard and garden, being mommy, being wife. Unfortunately, it all became a grind, then a blur. Years went by without my ever having any real fun or rest.

Because I was constantly in motion during the day, at night when I should have rested and relaxed I cleaned or crocheted or knitted. I used to go downstairs in my jammies when I couldn't sleep to tackle the set of legal pleadings that lurked in my computer.

There was pleasure from certain homey tasks, such as cooking, but that too became drudgery. I would wake up filled with anxiety and overwhelmed with responsibility.

It became obvious, eventually, that I had a problem with drawing boundaries. Since I was so busy pleasing the people in my life, I had no boundaries no place where they ended and I started.

Perhaps this isn't as much of a problem for men as it is for women, who are natural nurturers. But with a home office, I found myself giving way too much. I learned later that if I had nurtured my own self-esteem, the boundary problem would have disappeared.

Perhaps the male of the species is better able to draw boundaries in a home office environment, but they usually have something I didn't have a wife.

I'm not bashing men well, maybe just a little but their natures are quite different. Reading "Men are From Mars, Women are From Venus" explained to me just how different we are. Too bad I didn't read it years ago. But then, I wouldn't have all this great advice to give. Experience, like effort, counts for something.

When I talk to others who have home offices, they always say how important it is to discipline oneself to work. My experience was just the opposite. I had to discipline myself to play.

Help eventually came from books such as "Don't Sweat the Small Stuff and It's All Small Stuff. " That one clanged bells for me. Another book, "The Artist's Way," taught me the importance of taking time to play.

The book required me to write down 20 things that were fun for me. It took a while. I had forgotten what fun was. Then I had to inscribe the last time I did that fun thing. Most of the time it was years ago sometimes 20 years! Ack!

Eventually, the isolation of the home office got to me, too. I h ad a secretary who provided human contact, but when I decided to wind down my practice and start writing again, I had to let her go. Can you say "depression"?

So, take heed if you want a home office men and women. Know thyself before attempting to establish an office in your home.

(Cheryl Capages is a reporter for the Springfield Business Journal.)