I’ve always been busy. Busy, busy, busy. Tired, exhausted, stressed. Burnt out. Overwhelmed. Over-scheduled. You name it, I’ve felt it. I’m not proud of this either. But I know I’m not alone.
I grew up with parents who were always busy. Not a moment passed when they weren’t busy doing something important. Busy doing this and that. Busy helping people. Busy showing up in all places at all times.
No one batted an eye, and neither did I, for a while. Why would they? In their worlds and mine, busyness indirectly signaled success.
Of course, what did I do when I started to build a life of my own?
I too became “A BUSY PERSON.” In fact, it was a point of pride and a source of personal validation. Being busy meant that I had things to do! I had places to be! Nothing could stop me. Busy was good.
Until one day it wasn’t.
One day I woke up and simply could not do it anymore. I had run straight into my breaking point.
I wish I could say at this point that life stopped in its tracks. The truth is closer to extreme burnout masked by “high functioning” depression and anxiety.
This was probably one of most unbearably productive times of my life. I had just decided to start my business Bloom, and was still working full time as a therapist, seeing up to 30 clients a week, while trying to cope under the increasing mental health demands of the pandemic.
I somehow, found more ways to be busy online. Instead of winding down after work and allowing myself to truly rest, I channelled my stress into writing bite-sized messages for Instagram on self-care, burnout and overwhelm.
I poured the energy I needed for myself, yet again into others — something I saw my own parents do time and time again.
At the time I thought I was making meaningful changes in the way I showed up. Generational wounds and lessons have a way of sneaking up on you, even when you think you know better.
I was soothing myself with my own wisdom without practicing what I preached. I wasn’t trying to be hypocritical, I just wasn’t still enough to be self-aware.
My identity was wrapped up in a harmful cycle of burnout and breakdown. Slowing down didn’t come naturally to me — Even when I wanted to stop, I couldn’t.
I worried about letting people down. I stressed about failing. I panicked when I didn’t have something to do or somewhere to be. I filled up every conceivable corner of my schedule without thinking about carving any space for myself. In the midst of trying to achieve my goals and show up for others, I forgot a very important point: slowing down doesn’t mean you won’t get there.
“There” being: my goals, my dreams, the hopes of feeling free to simply do what I love.
These days I’m still unlearning the narrative that my value is based in how much I do. It’s not easy to let go of beliefs that I don’t deserve space, slowness and ease.
Being busy doesn’t mean anything about me. I am allowed to rest.
It might not seem revolutionary, but the insight I gained after that ~emotional breakdown~ brought a sense of clarity and intention to my ideas of rest and softness. Clarity that has persisted even as my work and personal responsibilities have grown.
It’s clear to me now that manufactured urgency is not sustainable, especially when it becomes wrapped into an inevitable cycle of burnout and chronic fatigue. I deserved better. I still do.
I know that I’m growing because I’m asking (and answering) hard questions to move forward in new ways. I used to feel overwhelmed by the reality that I didn’t have close family support to show me how to shift these patterns, however I’m making better decisions on honouring those feelings while also confronting them. I’m not perfect, but I am messily unlearning.
Some of the journal prompts I’ve used to helped me maintain this clarity are:
What is my relationship to urgency, and how am I responding to internal and external pressures and demands?
What boundaries do I need to set with myself in order to relax into times of ease?
What do I need to grieve or let go of in order for rest to be a priority?
Do I trust those supporting me to solve problems when they arise? How am I trusting my team to solve problems without me fighting the fire myself?
What workflows or systems need to be created or defined in order to successfully take time away from work? Have I given myself permission to use them regularly?
How can I soothe restless energy as I transition into slower ways to live and connect with my authentic self?
I still panic every so often when my to-do list is short, and my days aren’t jam packed with activities and meetings. It’s an active daily decision to stand still and allow life to arrive at my feet, so to speak, as opposed to constantly chasing it by trying to be productive.
I’m reminding myself that I deserve peace in my life, and protecting it has to be a priority.
It feels like a powerful reclamation to challenge the worn paths of generations that came before me who in many ways stayed busy to survive.
If you are also in the process of unlearning the “inevitability” of burnout, and a life full to the brim with “busyness” and “to-do’s,” hopefully this message finds you at the right time.
Sending lots of love on the journey towards more tenderness and simplicity,
—Meg
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