For years, this was my automatic response. Busy was my badge of honor, proof that I mattered, evidence that I was important enough to be in demand. Busy meant I was winning at life, right?
Wrong. So incredibly wrong.
The wake-up call came during what should have been a relaxing dinner with friends. Three different times, I interrupted conversations to check my phone. Not for emergencies - for emails that could have waited until morning. My friend finally said, "You know you don't actually have to be available 24/7, right?"
That night, I couldn't sleep. Not because I had too much to do, but because her comment had hit something deep. When was the last time I'd sat still without feeling guilty? When did I stop being a person and become a productivity machine?
I started paying attention to my relationship with busyness. The constant glorification of exhaustion. The way I used "I don't have time" as an excuse for everything I didn't want to face. The subtle pride I felt when people commented on how much I had going on.
Wrong. So incredibly wrong.
The wake-up call came during what should have been a relaxing dinner with friends. Three different times, I interrupted conversations to check my phone. Not for emergencies - for emails that could have waited until morning. My friend finally said, "You know you don't actually have to be available 24/7, right?"
That night, I couldn't sleep. Not because I had too much to do, but because her comment had hit something deep. When was the last time I'd sat still without feeling guilty? When did I stop being a person and become a productivity machine?
I started paying attention to my relationship with busyness. The constant glorification of exhaustion. The way I used "I don't have time" as an excuse for everything I didn't want to face. The subtle pride I felt when people commented on how much I had going on.