Trying To Do All The Things
A full life still needs room to breathe.
I keep having this fantasy that I can clone myself.
One version of me goes to brunch and walks around the city taking photos of street art.
One version does crafts and fun projects.
One version sees friends.
One version goes for a walk, journals, does physio, meal preps, tidies, answers every message, and somehow still has time to rest.
Then we all come back together at night and I get to feel like I did ALL the things. Sometimes, I try to live like that is actually possible.
I book three things in a day, sometimes more, and try to push through it all. Then my body or brain eventually taps me on the shoulder like… Girlllll. What are you thinking?
This is the conversation I have most often with friends and my mother. This deep WANT, that sometimes feels more like a need, to do everything. See everyone. Try everything. Make the most of everything. ALL THE THINGS, as I call it.
It comes from a good place. I want to live a full life. I want to look back and feel like I really lived. I don’t want to get to the end and think, “Why didn’t I do more?” I don’t want to have regrets.
But the other side of that is burnout.
And recently, I got very much in the groove of DOING ALL THE THINGS. So much so that I started neglecting my back injury. Nothing like an injury to remind you to stop being silly.
For a few days, I’d been brushing off the warning signs. My back didn’t feel great, but there were crafts to make and friends to see and plans I didn’t want to miss.
Then my body made the decision for me. Pain. All day. For days.
A very annoying but effective reminder that my body doesn’t have a backup battery I can just slap on to drag around while my brain chases novelty and connection.
This weekend, I was talking to a friend about this. He said he used to have that same pull, but now he’s happy to just float and enjoy life. He feels like he’s already done a lot of cool stuff and doesn’t think he’d regret spending more time scrolling, relaxing, and just hanging out.
This blew my mind.
Sometimes I forget that my inner world is not everyone’s inner world. Some people can just… float? Just be? Just enjoy?
I would love a button in my brain I could press for a weekend and suddenly feel the contentment of just being.
And listen, I know myself. My life will probably always be full. I will probably do more things than the average person because I have that little motor in my brain yelling, “DO ALL THE THINGS.”
But being reflective about that motor matters. I need to be the adult to myself.
The parent voice that says:
Nope, you cannot have another social plan this week. You need a night for you.
My knee-jerk state is to sprint instead of pace for a marathon and that’s just not how humans work.
Even bears hibernate. Trees have seasons. Everything in nature has cycles of blooming and resting, producing and pausing, doing and recovering.
Why do I think I’m the exception?
So I’ve started putting NO in my calendar again. Literal blocks that say NO.
No plans. No squeezing things in. No “quick coffee” that turns into a whole evening. No looking at my calendar and immediately feeling anxious about whether I’ll have the energy or mental bandwidth for everything I agreed to.
I’m starting to think I need three NO blocks a week.
Then, on the day of, if I genuinely have energy and want to do something, I can reach out to a friend. But I want to choose from a place of capacity, not obligation. I can’t keep letting my calendar get away from me.
Summer is the worst for this too, especially in Toronto. Everyone wants to do everything because it’s only warm for so long.
But the life I want has to be a life I can maintain. Not just one I can survive for a few weeks before my body files a formal complaint.
A Sunday reset for FOMO brains
(FOMO= Fear of Missing Out) I’m going to start doing this on Sundays in my journal to help me level set before the week runs away with me.
Ask yourself:
What do I actually NEED to do this week, not want, need?
Be honest. Not everything that feels urgent is actually essential, I’ve realized.
What can I take off my list? What could be done next week? Next month? Never?
Sometimes the most productive thing is deleting the task entirely.
What are my real non-negotiables?
Not the fantasy self version. The real-life version. Mine usually include things like certain friends, meditation, journaling, eating healthy, physio, talking with my mom, and actual rest.
I have a little calendar block every Sunday evening with this list. It helps me remember what actually matters before I start handing my week over to everyone and everything else.
This Week’s Dare: Set a timer for 15 minutes and figure out your non-negotiables.
Then look at your calendar and ask:
Is this filled with things I need to do, or things I reflexively said yes to?
Make sure your life reflects the life you want and the life you can actually maintain. Don’t burn the candle at both ends. (At least not all the time.)
More and more, as I write these newsletters, I realize they might be for me as much as anyone else. They are a mirror. A place to notice what I’m struggling with, what I’m learning, and what I need to practice next.
So this week, I’m practicing not doing all the things.
Wild concept. Wish me luck!
Resource: If this hits home for you, you might like Four Thousand Weeks by Oliver Burkeman. It’s a great reminder that we were never meant to fit infinite possibilities into one very human life.
💌 Know someone who treats their calendar like a competitive sport? Send this to them. They might need the reminder that a full life still needs space to breathe.