“I used to multitask constantly,” this habit helped me stop without effort

The day I realised something was wrong, I was standing in my kitchen in Brisbane, barefoot on cool tiles, burning my toast while trying to answer a work email and listen to a voice message from Mum. The kettle was boiling, my phone was buzzing, and my brain felt like a browser with thirty tabs open and the sound coming from God‑knows‑where. I wasn’t doing any of it well. I was half‑listening, half‑reading, half‑cooking, and somehow, still falling behind. I took the toast out, blackened and smoking, and thought: this cannot be what being “productive” is meant to feel like.

When Multitasking Started to Feel Like Drowning

For years, I wore multitasking like a badge of honour. At work, I’d pride myself on juggling Slack messages, email threads, project plans, and meetings, often all at once. At home, I’d cook dinner while scrolling news feeds, reply to texts while watching Netflix, and check my work emails during weekend brunch at a café in Newtown or Fitzroy. It felt normal because nearly everyone around me was doing it too.

But slowly, that buzzing beehive of activity started to feel less like energy and more like static. My attention span shrank. I’d walk into a room and forget why I was there. Books sat half‑read on my bedside table. I’d find myself re‑reading the same paragraph three times, each time realising my eyes had been moving but my brain was somewhere else entirely.

There was a particular afternoon on a packed train from Parramatta to the Sydney CBD that still sticks with me. I was wedged between a guy in hi‑vis scrolling TikTok and a uni student flicking between lecture slides and Instagram. I had a podcast in one ear, emails open on my phone, and a notebook on my knee. My chest felt tight, my thoughts were racing, and I couldn’t remember a single sentence from the email I’d just “read”. I looked up and noticed almost everyone around me doing some version of the same dance: two or three things at once, no one really there.

That was the first moment I wondered, not for the first time but finally seriously: what if the problem wasn’t that I wasn’t trying hard enough… but that I was trying to do too many things at once?

The Habit That Shifted Everything (And Didn’t Feel Like Hard Work)

I wish I could say I found my answer on some life‑changing retreat in the Daintree, meditating with tree frogs and eating pawpaw for breakfast. In reality, it started on a plastic chair in a waiting room at a GP clinic in Melbourne. I’d booked an appointment because I was constantly tired and irritable, convinced there was something medically wrong with me.

After listening carefully, my GP asked a question that caught me off guard: “When was the last time you did just one thing at a time?” I laughed. “That’s not how life works,” I told her. She didn’t laugh back.

She suggested something I’d always brushed off as fluffy: single‑tasking. Not some hardcore productivity system, not a digital detox in a cabin with no Wi‑Fi, just one habit:

Whenever possible, do only one thing at a time — and notice yourself doing it.

She called it “deliberate monotasking”. I called it impossible. But I agreed to try it for one week. Not as a moral crusade, not as a strict rule, just as an experiment. It didn’t feel like discipline. It felt small, almost laughably so. And that was exactly why I ended up doing it.

The First Tiny Experiment

The next morning, instead of launching into my usual chaos, I chose one moment: my first coffee. Normally, I’d scroll my phone while the moka pot bubbled on the stove in my small Perth kitchen, firing off replies on WhatsApp and scanning the news. This time, I decided: coffee only.

I listened to the low hiss as the coffee rose. I watched the steam curl and disappear in the cool air. I noticed the warmth of the mug against my hands as I sat on the back steps, watching galahs arc across the sky, pink and white flashes against the blue. Two minutes, maybe three. My brain wandered off to my to‑do list, but I gently nudged it back: just coffee.

That was it. No epiphany, no tears of joy, no angels singing. But after a few days of this tiny ritual, I noticed something subtle. I felt… less jagged. The mornings felt less like a starting gun and more like a slow inhale before the day began.

Letting Monotasking Spread (Without Forcing It)

What surprised me was that I didn’t have to force this habit into every corner of my life. I didn’t download an app. I didn’t write rules on my fridge. I simply chose one daily activity to do with full attention. After a week of “just coffee”, I tried “just walking” on the way to the tram in Melbourne. No podcasts, no phone, just the sound of my shoes on the footpath, the magpies warbling, the smell of someone’s toast drifting from an open kitchen window.

Then it became “just eating” for at least one meal a day. I began to notice the crunch of apple skin, the creaminess of avocado on toast, the way my body actually felt full when I was paying attention. Oddly, I ended up snacking less, not because I was policing myself, but because I was finally present enough to notice when I’d had enough.

There was something deeply Australian in this slowing down — the way time stretches on a hot afternoon when the cicadas are loud and the air barely moves. I’d spent years rushing through everything, even the good bits, treating every quiet moment as empty space to be filled with more content, more noise, more “productivity”. Now, I was letting one daily ritual at a time stand on its own feet, un-sliced, un‑shared, un‑interrupted.

And once my brain had a taste of that, it started wanting more of it, all by itself. That was the magic: I didn’t have to bully myself into changing. A tiny habit, done consistently, began to rewrite my default setting from “do more at once” to “do one thing properly”.

What Changed When I Stopped Performing Productivity

The weirdest part of this shift wasn’t that I became calmer (I did) or more present (definitely). The weirdest part was that, over time, I actually got more done — without that frantic, brittle edge I’d come to accept as normal.

At work, I started closing tabs. Literally. If I was writing a report for a client in Adelaide, that was the only window open. No email, no Slack, no Loom, no browser tabs multiplying like possums in a roof. I’d set a 25‑minute timer and say, “Just this.” My brain resisted at first, itching to check something else. But as the habit of monotasking spread from my mornings into my workday, I noticed:

• I made fewer mistakes.
• Tasks took less time because I wasn’t constantly re‑orienting myself.
• I ended the day tired, but not wired.

It felt a bit like driving on an open country road after months of being stuck in city traffic. Same car, same engine, completely different experience.

Here’s how the difference felt in daily life:

Before	After Monotasking Habit
Juggling emails, messages, and documents all at once	One focused work block at a time, with short breaks
Scrolling during meals without tasting the food	At least one phone‑free, fully present meal daily
Podcasts, texts, and emails during walks or commute	Regular “just walking” time to reset my head
Feeling constantly busy, rarely satisfied	Fewer tasks, done properly, with a sense of completion

The best way I can describe it is this: my life stopped feeling like a badly edited montage. It started feeling like a story again, with a beginning, middle, and end to each moment.

How to Try This Habit in an Australian Day (Without Forcing Yourself)

If you’re used to multitasking constantly, the idea of suddenly doing just one thing at a time might sound not only unrealistic, but slightly terrifying. The trick that helped me was to treat it like a quiet experiment, not a personality overhaul. No need for a new planner, a fancy app, or a self‑help identity. Just one small promise to yourself, repeated.

1. Pick One Anchor Moment

Choose something you already do every day. In Australia, that might be:

• Your first cuppa or coffee in the morning
• Your walk to the bus, tram, or train
• Hanging out the washing in the backyard
• Feeding your dog or cat
• That first cold drink after work on a hot day

Decide that, for this one activity, you will do only that. No phone. No side‑tasks. Just the thing itself.

2. Add Gentle Attention

Don’t overthink it. Just notice what’s happening with your senses:

• What can you see? (the colour of the sky over the surf at Bondi, or the way the light hits your apartment wall in Darwin)
• What can you hear? (traffic hum, kookaburras, the neighbour’s lawnmower)
• What can you feel? (heat, breeze, the weight of your mug in your hand)

Your mind will wander. That’s normal. When you catch it, just bring it back to what you’re doing, without scolding yourself.

3. Let It Spread Naturally

After a week or so, you’ll likely notice a tiny shift — a little more mental space, a little less frantic energy. That’s when you can gently add monotasking to another part of your day: one focused work block, one phone‑free lunch, one intentional conversation where you’re not half‑checking notifications under the table at a café.

You don’t need to be perfect or pure. Some days you’ll slip back into the old multi‑tab chaos. That’s okay. The goal isn’t to erase multitasking from your life. It’s to give your brain regular pockets of one‑thing‑only time so it can remember what it’s like to work the way it was designed to.

The Quiet Relief of Doing Just One Thing

I used to assume that my life would always feel fractured — that buzzing, exhausting, never‑done feeling was just the price of modern living in a busy city like Sydney or Melbourne. But standing on a beach at the Gold Coast one evening, watching the sun fold itself into the horizon, I realised something had changed. I wasn’t reaching for my phone to “capture” it. I wasn’t trying to squeeze a podcast or a call into the walk back to the car. I was just there: the grit of sand under my feet, the salt on my lips, the hiss of the waves in my ears.

Monotasking didn’t turn me into some perfectly serene person. I still have messy days. I still get lost down Instagram rabbit holes and open too many tabs. But my default has shifted. My brain now knows the way back to that simpler mode: one thing, done with full attention.

And strangely, that one tiny habit — choosing one moment a day to do just one thing — did what years of productivity hacks never did. It didn’t just make me more efficient. It made my life feel like mine again.

Frequently Asked Questions

Isn’t multitasking necessary in modern Australian life?

Some light multitasking is hard to avoid — like cooking dinner while chatting with family, or listening out for the kids while you’re tidying up. The problem is treating constant, heavy multitasking (emails, messages, social media, complex work) as normal all day long. Monotasking gives your brain the recovery time it needs so you can handle busy periods without burning out.

How long should I monotask for it to make a difference?

Even 2–5 minutes a day can start to shift your mental state. The key is consistency. Start with one daily activity (like your morning cuppa) and stick with it for a week. Then slowly add more moments as it starts to feel natural.

What if my job in Australia is fast‑paced and expects me to multitask?

You don’t have to overhaul your entire work culture to benefit. Try creating short, protected focus blocks — even 20–25 minutes — where you silence notifications and do one task only. Over time, you’ll likely find you’re more effective and less drained, even in a high‑pressure role.

Do I need to meditate or be into mindfulness to do this?

No. Monotasking is essentially “mindfulness in motion”, but you don’t need any special beliefs or rituals. You’re just doing one thing at a time, with your attention where your body already is. Think of it as practical, everyday mental hygiene, not a spiritual practice.

What if I get bored doing only one thing?

Boredom is common at first because your brain is used to constant stimulation. Rather than escaping it straight away, try staying with the feeling for a minute. Often, it softens into a quieter, clearer state. If it still feels awful, shorten the monotasking session, but keep the habit alive. Over time, your tolerance — and even your appreciation — for calm will grow.