Why your days feel like they disappear

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Some days vanish like I blacked out.

I sit down "for a minute," open a tab, follow a thread, solve a problem, build a model in my head. It all feels clean and satisfying in that Five way. Then I look up and it’s dark outside.

Not because I was scrolling mindlessly.

Because I was locked in.

And the feeling that hits isn’t just, "I’m behind."

It’s, "Why do I feel like I got hit by a truck?"

Today we’re talking about why your days can feel like they disappear as a Five, why that can drain your energy even when you were doing something meaningful, and how to stop paying that cost without giving up deep focus.

The Five time warp

Fives don’t just focus. We disappear into it.

My brain closes the door, turns down the volume on the outside world, and puts a sign up that says, “Do not disturb.” I’m not interested in shaming this. Deep focus is one of our gifts, and it’s how we create insight, master skills, and build things other people don’t have the patience to touch.

But it comes with a weird side effect.

It bends time.

In a real flow state, the usual signals get muted. Hunger, thirst, that ache in your back, the little internal clock that tells you, “Hey, maybe check the day.” Time doesn’t feel like it’s passing because your attention is doing one job and doing it well.

Then the spell breaks, and your brain has to load the whole world again.

“Wait… it’s 4:30?”

Why it drains you

Here’s the part I wish someone had told me sooner.

The drain usually isn’t because you “lost time.”

The drain is because you ran high-performance mode for too long.

Deep focus is mentally expensive, even when it’s enjoyable. You’re holding a lot in working memory. You’re making a thousand micro-decisions. You’re tracking threads, variables, edge cases, possibilities. It’s like sprinting, but for your brain.

Then there’s the part Fives always forget...

You stop maintaining the body.

You don’t drink water. You don’t eat. You don’t move. You don’t breathe deeply. You don’t change posture.

You sit in one position like a gargoyle guarding a sacred problem.

And it works... until it doesn’t.

When you finally stand up, your legs feel weird. Your shoulders feel locked. Your mouth is dry. Your brain feels buzzy and thin, like it’s loud but not clear.

Then you try to switch into normal life mode and it feels like it slams you in the face.

That’s the real punchline.

It’s not “I’m behind.”

It’s friction.

The hidden energy cost: friction

Fives are good at going deep.

We’re not always good at switching states.

So you go from single-thread focus mode to multi-thread life mode with no ramp. Suddenly you have to talk to people, make dinner, respond to messages, be present, do logistics, remember your body exists.

And your system is like, “Absolutely not.”

That’s why even small tasks feel expensive after deep work.

It’s not laziness. It’s not a character flaw. It’s that you burned your fuel, ignored your maintenance, and then asked your brain to do a hard context switch.

Of course you feel drained.

The fix isn’t less deep work

Most of us try to solve this by tightening the schedule.

More rules.
More discipline.
More self-talk that sounds like a disappointed manager.

Sometimes structure helps, but it misses the actual problem. The issue isn’t that you focus too much. The issue is that you focus like a brain in a jar.

No fuel.
No movement.
No transitions.

So the goal isn’t to never go deep, it’s to make deep focus sustainable.

How to keep the depth without the crash

Think of this like building a life-support system for your best work.

You don’t need a complicated routine. You need a few tiny actions that keep your body online and make state switching cheaper. Here are the ones that work best for me and for a lot of Fives.

1) The maintenance rule (inside the focus block)

Pick one simple maintenance action you’ll do during focus, not after.

Choose one:

• Stand up once every 30 minutes
• Drink water every time you open a new tab
• Take 3 slow breaths every time you hit save
• Keep a snack within arm’s reach and eat it halfway through

This sounds almost stupid. That’s why it works.

You’re just keeping the machine from overheating.

2) The bookmark (30 seconds)

Before you stand up, write three lines:

• What I just did
• What I’ll do next
• The first tiny step when I return

This isn’t journaling. It’s closing loops.

It stops that background tension that comes from “I can’t leave or I’ll lose the thread.” Your brain relaxes when it knows the thread is safe.

3) The soft landing (2 minutes)

When you exit focus, don’t immediately jump into the loudest part of your life.

Give yourself two minutes to re-enter.

Ask:

• What time is it?
• What’s the next right thing?
• What can wait?

Then do one small re-entry action that reconnects you to the world.

Fill your water.
Put food on a plate.
Step outside for ten breaths.
Send one message you’ve been avoiding.

Not to be productive. To reduce the friction.

Your experiment this week

Run this for 7 days.

Keep it stupid simple, and treat it like data collection.

Pick one maintenance rule (inside the focus block) and one exit ramp (after the block).

Maintenance rule, choose one:

• Water trigger
• Stand trigger
• Breath trigger
• Snack trigger

Exit ramp, choose one:

• Bookmark
• Soft landing

At the end of each day, answer these three questions:

1. Did I crash after deep work, or did I stay steady?
2. What did switching into normal life feel like: smooth or friction-heavy?
3. What happened to my energy in the late afternoon and evening?

A reframe that changes everything

If your days disappear, it doesn’t mean you’re irresponsible.

It means you have access to depth.

Depth is rare. Depth is valuable. And depth costs energy, especially when you forget you’re a body and then try to switch into real life like nothing happened.

So the goal isn’t to stop the time warp. The goal is to stop turning it into a crash.

Because you don’t need less depth.

You need better exits.

Josiah Goff

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110 Somerville Ave., Suite 266, Chattanooga, Tennessee 37405
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