Why are we so obsessed with productivity?
When it comes to all the nasty things we can be called, four-letter words pack the biggest punch. They’re ‘fighting words,’ for a reason.
Of all of them, there’s one that we dread. Way more than others.
It’s so despicable in fact, that most people work their asses off to create as much distance between themselves and the word as possible.
I was called the abhorrent word… by a teacher.
It must have been 3rd grade or so and I don’t fully remember the context. From what I recall, it was during recess, and she had a gaggle of my peers around her when she hurled the word at me.
Yes, this is the same teacher that sneezed, threw out her back, and attempted to “soldier on,” laying in the front of the classroom reclined on one of those cheap plastic lounge chairs that leave a tight stack of red horizontal marks on your skin. This meant she had no access to the blackboard, and I could no longer view her handwriting — the only thing about her that I trusted.
A few days in, she realized the recliner didn’t work. She disappeared, and a substitute took over.
I liked the substitute. She never picked on me; she never referred to me by the same four-letter word… she never called me lazy.
One of the less boring aspects of my last office job was my unrestricted access to death.
I got to read coroners reports, autopsy findings, and toxicology results. I could have viewed the images, but opted not to. Though sometimes curiosity got the best of me, and I encouraged coworkers in the next cubicle who were clicking through the images to describe what they saw.
I learned death comes daily, when least expected. People die no matter how old they are. No matter how productive or busy. Sometimes it’s a car accident. An overdose. Lot’s of motorcycle related cases. Atherosclerosis. Sometimes by their own hand. Old age, and yes. Homicide too. Sometimes it’s a while before they’re discovered.
There was one road rage incident where someone tried to pass the person in front of them on a narrow windy stretch, and ended up losing control. They veered off the side, and slammed into a tree. According to the autopsy, it took the subject a few minutes to die.
I wondered if — in those last moments — they regretted being so impatient. Realizing first-hand how destructive this impulsive urge to move so quickly can be.
I know the feeling. I’m sure most of us do.
That anxiety… how excruciating and uncomfortable it gets when someone is driving too slow in front of you. The eruption of anger when being forced to adjust. What is it, really?
I believe fear is a major culprit. Fear boxes us into extremes: if slow equals bad, fast must be good.
It’s become engrained — reinforced from so many angles — that lazy is bad. So, for a long time I operated with the belief that if lazy is bad, then hyper productivity and busyness all the time is good. No matter how exhausted, uninspired, depleted, or sick (and consequently unproductive) I became.
It’s only recently that I’m trying to learn how to give myself permission to take a break, to do “nothing of value.” It’s prickly, trying to force slowing down and rest while guilt and all the things I should be doing keep elbowing me sharply. Moderation is this context is tricky. It includes saying no. No to buying things, no to making big financial purchases and commitments that require more from me, more productivity.
And here’s the thing — ultimately, this is what I keep having to remind myself: no amount of business or hustle is going to save me.
We’re all going to leave this place sometime, that’s the truth. And if the truth shall set you free, I’m resolving to live as unencumbered by fear — and the many clever ways it disguises itself — as possible.
I want to enjoy this experience. Not someday, not tomorrow, now. I want to actually experience this experience.
I spent so much time hiding. It’s time to live life, in its entirety. It’s time to make space for all of it, even when it’s uncomfortable.
Make space for all of it — yes — including rest.
