I was sitting in my kitchen the other morning, watching the steam rise off my coffee, and I realized something that felt a bit like a punch to the gut. I had been awake for exactly six minutes, and I already felt behind. I hadn’t even opened my laptop yet. I hadn’t checked my emails. I hadn’t even looked at the weather. But that heavy, familiar weight of “I should be doing more” was already sitting right there at the table with me.
It’s a strange way to live, isn’t it? We’ve built this world where “busy” is the default setting. If you aren’t running, you’re falling behind. If you aren’t optimizing every second of your commute or your lunch break, you’re somehow failing at the game of life. I’ve spent years caught in that loop, and honestly, I think I’m finally starting to get tired of it. Not just physically tired, but that deep-down-in-your-soul kind of tired that sleep doesn’t really fix.
So, I wanted to write this today because I think a lot of us are feeling the same thing. We’re all trying to keep up with a pace that wasn’t actually designed for human beings. We’re trying to find focus in a world that is literally designed to distract us. And maybe, just maybe, the answer isn’t to try harder, but to finally give ourselves permission to slow down.
The myth that we should always be “arriving”
We’ve been sold this idea that life is a series of milestones to be checked off. You graduate, you get the job, you get the promotion, you buy the house, you find the perfect routine. It’s as if we’re always on our way to some magical destination where we’ll finally be “finished” and can finally relax. But the goalposts keep moving. Every time you hit a milestone, you just see the next one shimmering on the horizon, and the cycle starts all over again.
I’ve spent so much time focusing on the “next thing” that I’ve completely forgotten how to be in the “current thing.” I’ll be out for a walk on a beautiful day, and instead of noticing the trees or the way the air feels, I’m thinking about an article I need to write or a bill I forgot to pay. It’s exhausting. We treat our lives like a project to be managed rather than an experience to be lived. We’re so focused on arriving that we’ve forgotten how to just be here.
The truth is, there is no arrival. There’s just… this. This moment, this coffee, this slightly messy living room. And if we can’t find a way to be okay with the “now,” no amount of future success is going to fix that restless feeling in our chests.
Learning to be a beginner again
One of the biggest hurdles to finding your own pace is the fear of being bad at things. In our culture of “optimization,” we feel like if we aren’t immediately good at something—or if we can’t monetize it—it’s a waste of time. I remember a few months ago, I decided I wanted to try painting. Not for a gallery, not for Instagram, just for me. And you know what? I was terrible. My trees looked like green blobs, and I couldn’t get the perspective right to save my life.
My first instinct was to quit. I felt this weird sense of shame, like I was “wasting” an hour that I could have spent being productive. But then I realized: why does it matter? Why do I feel like I have to be “good” at a hobby? The whole point of a hobby is the doing, not the result. We’ve lost the art of being a beginner. We’ve lost the joy of the “slow start.”
The ego hit
It’s hard on the ego, for sure. When you’re an adult, you’re expected to have things figured out. Admitting you’re a novice at something feels vulnerable. But there’s a real magic in that vulnerability. When you allow yourself to be bad at something, you’re also allowing yourself to learn. You’re opening up parts of your brain that have been dormant because they were too busy worrying about efficiency.
- It humbles you in the best way possible.
- It reminds you that the process is more important than the product.
- It gives you a break from the pressure of being an “expert.”
I still paint those green blobs occasionally. They’re still not great. But the hour I spend doing it is the only hour of the week where I’m not checking the clock. And that, I’ve realized, is worth more than a masterpiece.
The invisible pressure of “optimization”
We live in an age where everything is supposed to be “the best version.” We have apps to track our sleep, apps to track our steps, and podcasts that tell us how to maximize our morning routines. I’ve fallen into that trap more times than I can count. I’ll read a book about “high performance” and suddenly I’m convinced that if I don’t wake up at 5:00 AM and drink a liter of lemon water, my whole day is a wash.
But here’s the thing: human beings aren’t machines. We aren’t meant to have the same output every single day. Some days we have energy, and some days we just don’t. And that’s okay. The pressure to optimize our lives actually ends up making us less creative and more stressed. We’re so busy trying to find the “perfect” way to do things that we never actually get around to doing them with any heart.
I’ve started trying to ignore the “shoulds.” I should exercise for an hour; okay, but maybe today a ten-minute walk is all I have in me. I should be networking; okay, but maybe today I just want to talk to my old friend on the phone. When we stop trying to optimize our lives, we actually start living them. It sounds simple, but it’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.
Reclaiming the quiet moments
I think the hardest part of finding your own pace is dealing with the silence. When you stop the constant “doing,” you’re left with your own thoughts. And for a lot of us, that’s terrifying. That’s why we reach for our phones the second we have a spare moment—waiting in line, sitting at a red light, lying in bed at night. We’re afraid of the quiet.
But the quiet is where the good stuff happens. It’s where your brain actually has a chance to process what’s going on. It’s where the creative ideas—the ones that aren’t forced—actually bubble up to the surface. I’ve started making a conscious effort to leave my phone in another room for at least an hour a day. Not to be productive, but just to see what happens when I’m bored.
At first, it’s uncomfortable. You feel twitchy. You feel like you’re missing out on something. But then, after twenty minutes or so, something shifts. You notice the way the light is hitting the wall. You remember a joke someone told you three years ago. You start to feel like a person again, rather than just a consumer of information.
Small ways to slow down
If you’re feeling overwhelmed by the pace of everything, you don’t have to quit your job and move to a cabin in the woods (though that does sound nice sometimes). You can start with tiny rebellions against the “grind”:
- Eat your lunch without looking at a screen. Just taste the food.
- Take the long way home once in a while.
- Say “no” to one thing this week that you only feel obligated to do.
- Let yourself stare out the window for five minutes without a purpose.
These things won’t make you more productive. They won’t help you get a promotion. But they might make you feel a little more human. And in the long run, I think that’s a lot more important.
The fear of missing out vs. the joy of missing out
We talk a lot about FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out). We’re terrified that if we aren’t constantly plugged in, we’ll miss a piece of news, a trend, or an opportunity. But I’ve been leaning more into JOMO—the Joy Of Missing Out. There is something incredibly liberating about knowing that there’s a whole lot of noise happening out there and choosing not to participate in it.
I don’t need to know what every person I went to high school with had for dinner. I don’t need to have an opinion on the latest viral outrage. When you intentionally “miss out” on the noise, you make room for the things that actually matter to you. You find that you have more energy for your real-life relationships and your own actual interests.
It’s about protecting your headspace. Your attention is the most valuable thing you own, and everyone is trying to steal it. Reclaiming your pace is really just about taking back control of where your attention goes. It’s saying, “My time is mine, and I get to decide how fast I want to move through it.”
Finding your own rhythm
The most important thing I’ve realized is that your pace doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s. Some people thrive on a busy schedule. Some people are naturally morning larks, and others are night owls. Some people need a lot of social interaction, and some of us (myself included) need a lot of “hermit time” to recharge.
The problem is when we try to force ourselves into a rhythm that isn’t ours. We see someone else’s highlight reel and think we should be doing what they’re doing. But you can’t run someone else’s race. You’ll just end up burnt out and miserable. I’ve had to learn the hard way that my “productive” hours are usually between 10:00 AM and 2:00 PM. If I try to force deep work at 8:00 PM, I’m just spinning my wheels. Knowing that—and accepting it—has saved me so much frustration.
It takes a bit of trial and error to figure out what your natural rhythm is. It involves listening to your body more than your calendar. It involves admitting when you’re tired instead of pushing through with more caffeine. It’s a practice, not a destination. And some days, you’ll get it wrong. Some days you’ll still find yourself scrolling at midnight or feeling guilty for taking a nap. That’s okay. We’re all just practicing.
I think, at the end of the day, we’re all just looking for a little bit of peace. We want to feel like we’re living our lives, not just surviving them. And that peace doesn’t come from getting everything done. It comes from realizing that “getting everything done” is an impossible goal anyway.
So, maybe today, just try to breathe a little deeper. Don’t worry about being “optimized.” Don’t worry about being behind. You’re exactly where you need to be, and you’re allowed to take as much time as you need to get to the next thing. The world will still be there when you’re ready. But for now, just enjoy the coffee while it’s still hot.