I’m writing this to you at 6 a.m. on a Saturday. I went to sleep at 1 a.m. on a Saturday. I worked my full-time job from 7 a.m. until 3:30 p.m. on Friday before going to my second job from 4:30 to 11:30 p.m. So it’s 6 a.m. right now. My day has begun with dark-roasted coffee, dry shampoo and under-eye concealer that I spent way too much money on. Lately, my days always begin with dark-roasted coffee, dry shampoo and under-eye concealer that I spent way too much money on. I could have stayed in bed this morning. In fact, my over-exhausted body and underwhelmed heart begged me to. But like it always does, my hamster-wheel mind won the war with its incessant screaming that the world would start without me if I didn’t get out of bed. My head is already scrambling to fit the puzzle pieces of my day into place. Journal, check work emails and do laundry from 7 to 8, workout class at 10, grocery shop at 11:30, bake two strawberry pies for the church volunteers at 12:30, wedding at 3. The world may be spinning slow, but my world is always spinning much too fast.
Everyone has an addiction to something, even if they don’t know it yet. I’m addicted to doing. Or maybe it’s an addiction to productivity. Or accomplishment. I’m still trying to work that out. What I do know is that writing to-do lists and making check marks is the ultimate high for me; one that I’m continually chasing. On the rare occasions when my planner isn’t filled with a list of things to do, I feel incomplete. And on those rare occasions when I collapse onto the couch, guilt creeps in every time. I live my life wrapped in words like “soon” and someday” when it comes to making plans that I might actually enjoy. And when I do accept the invitation to girls night or say yes to happy hour, my mind is under attack with words like “should be” and “could be.” I can’t stop thinking about all of the things that I should be getting done or could be getting done. I can’t stop thinking about all that I could accomplish if I was some place else—at home, at the library, at the grocery store, at my computer.
I guess that’s when I started to realize that busyness was gradually moving into dependency and dependency was moving toward a full-blown addiction. Or an identity crisis. I’m still trying to work that out, too. When people ask me how I am or how I’m doing, I frantically raise my “busy” shield and duck behind it, finding refuge in words like “so crazy busy.” I pair that with a well-rehearsed smile so they buy into the lie that “crazy busy” is the same as I’m doing well, like really well. Really. Yes, my life is crazy but I hold it together. I’m worthy of your respect because I am one hell of a go-getter. But if I were to come out from behind the shield, I would tell you that I’m tired. That I’m running high on caffeine and alarmingly low on faith, lately. I would tell you that I wake up at 5 a.m. every morning because I’ve shamed my body into believing that rest is a luxury, not a necessity. I would tell you that I don’t know who I am if I’m not the girl wearing the busy badge. I would tell you that I don’t feel relevant without the check marks, the volunteering, the two jobs, the blog or the consultancy project.
I’ve had too many nights when I’ve crawled into bed re-visiting the events of the day, mentally crossing the T’s and dotting the I’s. I’ve had too many nights when I’ve let the day come to an end with feelings of emptiness. And I’ve had too many nights when I’ve lied and told myself that the emptiness was a result of tiredness. And since I almost always accomplish everything that I set out to do, the empty feelings continually convince me that I just didn’t do enough. And like all addictions, enough is forever out of reach.
Now I’m writing this to you on Sunday night. Sundays are when I not only analyze and critique how much I’ve gotten done that day, but how much I’ve gotten done that entire week. “But did you make a difference?” And there it is. When the chaos and the spinning of my world slows down at night, I hear it. That still, small voice. Did I make a difference? I worked 10 hours, washed my car, cleaned my apartment, ran four miles AND blow dried my hair—something that rarely, if ever, happens. I got everything done that I needed to. But did I make a difference? The truth is, I have no idea. I blocked out anything that wasn’t in the planner. It’s how I manage to stay on track. I can’t remember most of the interactions I had that day because I was thinking about everything that I needed to get done the next day. Suddenly, my check marks seem awfully silly to me.
At this point, I defensively tell God that I can’t do it all, and it’s at this point that I’m reminded that God isn’t nearly as impressed with my check marks as I am. To be honest, I’ve had quite a few of these nights lately—nights when I’ve had to tell God that I didn’t have the time or notice the opportunities to help, to love and to connect that day. And when I have too many days like this in a row, I have to confess that helping, loving and connecting aren’t priorities for me. That’s alarming. It’s disheartening. Saying it out loud is actually quite painful.
I think that God loves that I’m driven and focused and goal oriented. I think He made me that way. But I also know that He created me to help, to love and to connect. And lately, His purpose for me doesn’t seem to be a priority. My self-created chaos is causing me to miss out on God’s plan for my day and His purpose for my life. When my head (and my schedule) is full, it usually means that my heart isn’t full. When my heart isn’t full, I’m no good to people, and really, if I’m no good to people, I’m no good to God. (Please note that I’m not saying that God doesn’t see goodness written all over me, I’m saying that He can’t use me if I’m not good to people.)
Busyness, rather than wholeness, has become a lifestyle for me. Busyness and wholeness have become interchangeable entities to me. Please don’t buy into this lie; being busy will not bring you any closer to the path of healing or wholeness. Take it from me; I’ve created an entire identity from schedules, and “yeses,” and achievements and to-do lists. Whether you’re a new mom, a wife, the girl with three jobs, a student trying to survive grad school, or simply a woman trying to navigate the expectations of society, I know that you’re busy. I know that you are tired. I know you’d give anything to get lost in a book or lost in a crowd for a few minutes. I know what you’d give to slow down your life or erase the stress that’s written all over your pretty face. I know because I am there. But I know that this isn’t what God intended for us when He said “I know the plans I have for you.” He wasn’t talking about play dates for your kids and bake sales and two jobs and three years of online classes. His plans for us are centered on our well-being. I know that because He goes on to say “they are plans for good and not harm; plans to give you hope and a future.” (Jeremiah 29:11).
So I’d like to invite you to this new life I’m finding. I invite you to lay down your shield of busy and pick up this weapon of rest. Put down the coffee, slow down with me, find your center, and let’s start again.
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And to my tribe of people who refuse to accept the girl behind the busy armor, thank you for continually inviting me to step out from behind the shield and ask me how I really am. And for buying me coffee.