Can we talk a little bit about the busyness trap? You know. That whole thing where, as a society, we compete against each other to see who is the busiest and who deserves our collective pity for being the most overworked and overcheduled?
I used to really take pride in my busyness. I proudly would declare that I worked five jobs while in college. I’d subtly gloat about the fact that I stayed up until 2am the other night working on a project. I’d giggle at people who thought they were “busy”. I mean, didn’t they know? I was in the running for the Queen B of Busyness, and they were way far behind. I mean, they had time to sit down and eat at an actual table and have a conversation with their family. Slackers.
I thought I had to prove my worth by the amount of hours I worked or the number of projects I had going on or the things I checked of my list. More specifically, I thought I had to prove I was worthy of my wonderful, happy, and privileged life by busy-ifying myself so much that I became depressed and overwhelmed.
Holy self-sabotage, Batman! Talk about a Catch 22. I felt like to fully appreciate my charmed life, I had to work so hard for it that I didn’t have the emotional capacity to enjoy it. Not logical, Cass. You’re smarter than that!