“We operate in a society that rewards production and punishes rest. Worst, we think that we have to earn our rest. We feel good when we're productive, working towards something, and guilty when we aren't…” —Sheila Lam for How to be a Woman on the internet
For so long, I was exactly the type that thrived on this idea of productivity. I fully bought into the Girlboss movement when it emerged in the early 2010s and have only recently began to pry myself from its claws. I worked long and I worked hard. And when I wasn’t working my main job, I was working on a side hustle as secondary income. And when I wasn’t doing that, I was working on myself. Any free minute I had was a minute dedicated to making me better or smarter in some way, whether it was reading an educational book or listening to an informative podcast. Brushing my teeth meant getting updated on current events. Driving the car meant learning about the Indian Child Welfare Act (which is massively important, by the way, and is being wrongly debated in the Supreme Court). Going on walks meant brushing up on the influencer pay gap between white influencers and influencers of color. My hobbies – reading and going for walks – turned into opportunities for productivity. Like Sheila said, I felt good when I was productive, working towards something. And guilty when I wasn’t. I was always working, whether it was on my job, my side hustle, or myself.
At the end of December 2022, I realized I wanted to do something about it… and I did. I did the unthinkable — I decided to work less than the year before.
The idea of doing less was foreign to me. I was always taught to work as hard as I can for as long as I can. That success means doing more, making more. That when it came to work, having a full plate wasn’t enough – I needed to have a plate that was overflowing. But where does it end? If 5 years ago me had known all that I was working on and making last year, she would have thought I'd made it. Yet, there I was, feeling like it wasn’t enough. The more I made, the more I wanted. Regardless of the projects I took on, there was always a more impressive client or brand partnership that I could acquire. And I know it wasn’t just me who felt this way. My peers were operating the same way. Even others I knew, people who had all the money in the world, compared themselves to those with even more money and more power, and felt the same pressures to do more and make more even though they didn’t have to.
For so many of us, these goalposts are always changing, constantly pushed out of reach, further and further the moment we get to them. So at the end of last year, I decided that I would move the goalposts – but this time, I would move them closer, not farther. I made a promise to myself that I would take on less work, less projects. And that I would put a cap on my income in order to stifle the temptation to do more.
Before I go further, I want to acknowledge that being able to do that comes with a lot of privilege. And not something everyone can do. There are bills to pay, family members to support, and important life goals to save for. But for many, especially those in my industry and specifically those in much higher tax brackets, this ability to do less is possible, yet the addiction for more – more money, more status, more things – makes the idea of working less and making less sound unimaginable.
And I get it. It’s against everything we’ve ever been taught. I myself had a hard time with it even after I committed to it. I constantly called myself lazy, a slacker. It took months (and multiple therapy sessions) for me to finally embrace it. My therapist reminded me that being able to do less was possible because of how hard I had worked the 9 years before. “Don’t you think you’ve earned the ability to take on less? Didn’t you work that hard so that eventually it would get easier?” She also pointed out that I was still working – still making a livable wage with current clients and projects. For the first time in my career, I just wasn’t overworking myself.
Fast forward to now, to (almost) the end of my year of working less. Was it worth it? Was it worth passing on projects and new clients? Was it worth the pay cut? For me, the answer is yes. This year has turned out to be one of the best years of my life. I don’t know the last time I’ve been this happy, this content, this at peace. I was less preoccupied with what emails were coming in, what brand partnerships I was or wasn’t getting, and what algorithm hacks I needed to try and instead was more present with myself and those around me. I spent more quality time with family and friends. I read books for pure enjoyment. I prioritized my physical and mental health, moving my body more consistently and having regular therapy sessions. I discovered hidden gems in my city like independent bookstores and local gardens. I created Seen Library and hosted book drives and book exchanges, expanding my community. I created a couple newsletters – this one and another called How to be a Woman on the Internet.
And I began noticing the little things. The kind gestures of strangers, the way my husband pulls me in for hugs when I walk past him, the stray cat visiting our backyard... Old me wouldn’t have paid her any mind. But the new me? The new me who had more time? I noticed her coming around multiple times a day. Noticing her turned into observing her from afar… which turned into us leaving food out for her… which turned into us petting and spending time with her… which turned into learning that she had little kittens in the neighbor’s yard… We became so invested that we wrote a letter to our neighbors and took her (her name is Mochi) and her babies (who we named Miso and Boba) in not long after and fostered them by socializing, feeding, and playing with them, and getting their shots and neuter and spays. The kittens are now in a loving home, adopted by a friend, and Mochi is now with us. All of this took hours out of my day, hours I never used to have because they were dedicated to sitting in front of my laptop.
Look, I’ve never been a pet person, as I didn’t grow up with them, so I’m not about to turn this into a piece about why everyone should have pets or why cats are amazing or whatever. The point is that for the first time in my adult life, I slowed down. I made time. I became less productive. I took notice of the world around me. I began to prioritize who and what is actually important to me, what fulfills me. I finally understood that rest and unproductive hobbies are necessary. And I remembered that life is short and meant to be enjoyed, not worked to the bone.
To be honest, I don’t know how long this laidback attitude is going to last. I don’t know if this is the new me or just the me right now. I don’t know if my type-A personality is going to kick in again and if this season of slowness is just a phase. What I do know is this: the amount of money I make, the projects I work on, and how productive I can be in a day aren’t the things that make me happy. While they’re important to sustaining this life I live, what makes life worth living is the stuff outside of all that. And I hope that no matter what – whether I find myself in times of working more or working less – that I don’t lose sight of that.