We need to stop the glorification of busy. Let me tell you why.
A few days ago I arrived at the conclusion that I’ve been running since high school. And no, I don’t mean around a track or down a sketchy forest trail… that’s not my thing. But nevertheless, I’ve been running. And by running I mean blurring the peripherals, committing to the grind, and throwing myself so deep into work that I hardly have time or energy for anything else.
I admit I’m a workaholic. I feel my best when I’m productive, ahead of the game, conquering and achieving my highest expectations. I’ve been a perfectionist my whole life, constantly attempting to outdo my very best. I don’t settle for good enough; even when I find myself awake at 3 AM trying to perfect that final paragraph, that masterpiece of a poem I’ve been working on the whole day, I still feel worlds away from enough. I’ll edit and revise and weep over the idea that I’m wasting my potential. It’s so easy for me to fall into a cycle of stress I continually deny. No, I’m fine. This is just the way I work.
But it shouldn’t be like this. Life shouldn’t just be a checksheet, an itinerary, or a packed agenda, and nor do I want it to be. I’ve been going so fast for so long that I’ve realized I’ve been terribly neglecting much more important matters in my life. I have watched some of my most valuable relationships crumble at my feet. Because no one wants to be around someone so invested in the rush and retrieve that they can’t spare a few minutes for a lunch date. No one wants to spend time with someone who can’t stay away from her phone, who checks her email in the middle of leisurely hanging out, who can’t stop counting down minutes for the next challenging assignment just for the pleasure of absolutely wrecking it. I cared about straight As on my transcript more than I cared about what my best friend from home has been up to, the guy she recently met, her new job. I’ve lost friends by burying myself alive. I was drowning and, to me, that felt like heaven.
I can’t be present for anyone, not even myself, when I push myself to the point of breaking each and every day. I want to be everything. One of my favorite poets, Sylvia Plath, once wrote in her journal:
“I can never read all the books I want; I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want. I can never train myself in all the skills I want. And why do I want? I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in my life. And I am horribly limited.”
And that speaks volumes to me. I am addicted to the rush of feeling worthy of being placed on a pedestal. It’s a little egotistical, and that’s me being honest; I am not a perfect, selfless saint. I don’t feel superior to any of my friends, but working hard to achieve my personal goals gives me an edge on life comparable to being hooked on drugs. When I am not wearing myself thin, I feel horribly empty inside. When I finish a day without finishing off my list of obligations, I feel like life has been reduced to infinite meaninglessness.
I’m trying my hardest to unlearn this toxic spiral of never good enough. But my goodness, it is the hardest endeavor I’ve ever worked for. This need for perfection has plagued and blessed me since before I even started elementary school, and it became so ingrained in my life and personality that, even still, I cannot imagine myself without it. I remember being as young as 5, crying when I wasn’t allowed to work faster than the rest of the class. I cried and cried all the way home.
It does get better, though, and I find that I’m learning a little bit more every single day. Recently I was offered to start grad school early. I’m already skipping a full year of undergrad, but the opportunity presented itself like a tempting chocolate cake thrust right into my face. Skip a year of grad school by starting our program senior year of college. Get started on your real-life professional career. Do it. Do it. Do it or you’ll regret turning this down.
But, I couldn’t. Not because I find myself underqualified or unprepared for the rest of my life to begin, but because, for the sake of my own health and mental wellbeing, proceeding with such a rigorous course of action would undoubtedly send me shuttling. I’m currently enrolled in 22 college credits just for the sake of filling my schedule to the max. I’m going to graduate a year early with 2 dual degrees and a minor. I know exactly what I want out of life, but I can’t keep rushing. I just can’t. I’m 20 years old and I have a lifetime ahead of me– and not all of it is work, work, work.
My brand new 2020 resolution, invented smack in the middle of February, is to slow down. Be present for the people in my life who deserve it. Take time to call my old friends on the phone, to catch up with them and their endeavors over a giddy midnight FaceTime call. Binge-watch a new show (or maybe just ugly-cry to How I Met Your Mother from the beginning of Season 1 again). I want to pick up new hobbies. I want to read more just for the fun of it. I want to be able to love other people less like an afterthought or time-filler but really love them.
I don’t want to be defined by the sum of my successes. Thinking like that directly violates one of my major life philosophies: being as authentic, kindhearted, and genuine as possible. I don’t want to be anchored to the need to beat myself up. I want to learn how to give more than I receive.
I think after I finish writing this I’m going to call my mom. Homework, even on a Sunday morning, can wait. So can the rest of my life. I just want to talk to her. I want to tell her that I’m ready to start loving life again.