What if we’re this busy on purpose?

A to-do list for relaxing.

Cosplaying a chill woman.

I am writing this newsletter from one of the most palatial rooms I have ever stayed in — an inn, nestled in the rolling green hills of a Virginian country club built in the 1830s, where my brother-in-law will marry his supremely rad fiancée tomorrow. It’s the first time I haven’t had 65 things on my to-do list in weeks. And so, because my husband is involved in the rehearsal and I don’t know how to chill or whatever, I am doing this.

The fact that I am overcommitted is an incredibly boring discovery. Most Americans are too busy. So busy that many claim it’s making life miserable. As one Reddit user depressingly headlined a post, “The cruel irony: Either too busy to enjoy, or too broke to enjoy.” Humans have a Goldilocks relationship with time, in that we need enough activity to not allow too much existential dread to float to the surface like the gloopy wax in a lava lamp, but not so much that we’re constantly stressed and anxious.

Despite knowing I am a feral squirrel of a person, and wincing when I see this same propensity in others, I cannot seem to say “yes” or “no” the correct amount. (It’s because I cannot seem to say “no.”) Arthur C. Brooks psychoanalyzed me personally in a 2024 Atlantic article about this very topic. The author and Harvard professor explains that, if we don’t know how to use the free time we have, it can become idleness, which activates a set of brain structures known as the Default Mode Network, where dark thoughts thrive:

“The pattern of thought when that network is involved can be merely trivial (How did my fingernails get so dirty?) or speculatively terrifying (What could my teenager be up to?). To avoid activating this unproductively ruminative state, we look for ways to force ourselves to be busy, such as scrolling through social media and staying busy with some goal-oriented task.”

Basically, we tend to prefer laboring until our bones turn to dust than hanging out with the creepy little guy in the cockpit. I’ve been swearing that I will just do less since I finished my first manuscript (and lost my personality) late last year. Working as a pastry chef has been a welcome mental reprieve, but I have otherwise been failing at this mission — coming home exhausted, dusted in flour, and nonetheless compelled to type furiously on my laptop.

My hot and supportive husband has been paying all of our bills to give me time to rest. Last night, though, he told me that watching me continue to sprint on the treadmill in mind while pretending I’m not puffed makes him feel like “an enabler.” And that is honestly very fair. Luckily, Brooks has an idea that will hopefully placate my sweetie pie (and my nervous system):

“One remedy is to create a list of discretionary tasks that are creative and attractive to you but do not involve a deadline. For me, this means sketching out book ideas in a notebook I carry around with me. When I have unfilled time, I pull out the notebook and start brainstorming. This inevitably induces a pleasurable “flow state,” which gives me energy and refreshes me — and creates an incentive to block out more discretionary time.”

Participating in capitalism has always asked us to eat shit, but it also seems that the cult of busyness comes from a murkier place. It’s so embedded into our programming that we need to create to-do lists of fun to convince our lizard brains that it’s safe to recreate. So yeah, here I am in this absurdly beautiful room, with nothing urgent to do and nowhere I need to be for a bit, and I’m writing my little demons to sleep.

Anyway! Over to you:

• When was the last time you had a free hour? What did you do with it?

• If you never had to earn another dollar, which activities would disappear from your calendar?

• What activities reliably coax you into a flow state?