I have often lived my life in pursuit of five years down the line. I am fixated on the future, energized and paralyzed by the possibility of it. What could things be like if only I do X and Y now? Determined to find out, I push myself hard to be productive—and with writing most of all.
This self-imposed pressure peaked a few years back. I was living in New York City. I was in my twenties, which meant it felt very important to do all of the things, all the time. My weeks were a blur of worn out subway rides and a job in which I was overworked and underpaid. Half-price theatre tickets and evenings spent with friends, and always, always, always, writing squeezed in on the sides and filling the cracks, because if I wanted that novelist future, I needed to work for it. The city wasn’t sleeping, so why should I?
Writing time became relegated to the “extra” hours of the day. Early mornings. Weekends I spent pushing the word count up and up instead of decompressing. I grew so used to turning free time into writing time that eventually, I struggled to disentangle the two. Besides, since writing doesn’t require an office or many tools, it felt hard to justify not working on it any chance I had.
I internalized this mode of being, shaped it into a code by which I lived my life: any free or unscheduled time not spent writing became wasted time. Time in which I was being lazy, lacking dedication, allowing myself to be distracted from the goal.
I have not lived in New York for years now. I’m no longer in my twenties. But these stories we tell ourselves root deep in the bones, and still I find myself feeling guilty for using free time to relax rather than write. I wrestle with that nagging impulse to be swept away on a tide of go, go, go.
Friends, I’m on a mission to untether myself from this mentality. My goal these last few months? To read a book, run, or sip my morning coffee to a podcast instead of my laptop—and not feel guilty for it. To view free time, not as a waste, but as time well spent. Working on my manuscript remains as important to me as ever, and I’m still chasing that future. But I’m teaching myself to chase slower, and I think I’m healthier for it. 🩵
A rare instance of me showing my face. Hello!