Addicted to Rushing

Reflections on self-compassion and letting go.

After crashing and burning in 2020, I had a lot of time to reflect. We were in lockdown, and I was practically bed-bound for three months. Everything hurt. My joints felt like they were on fire, from my hips to the tiny joints in my toes and fingers.

For the best part of three decades before that, I had never stopped. University. Leaving Spain to move away from painful memories. Moving to France. Moving back to Spain. Moving to the UK. Telling my boss she was a bully and moving back to Spain, only to return to the UK within a few months. More university. Entering the career ladder. Rushing from A to B, getting qualifications to get a better job, a better salary. Buying a house. Travelling. Partying. More university. Leaving my job to become my own boss (or “become an entrepreneur,” as the trendy term goes). Rush. Rush. Rush some more.

Until I physically couldn’t because my body was exhausted, and my mind didn’t even have the energy to feel anything at all. It was on low battery mode, doing the basics. Getting out of bed and into the bath was a struggle. It was only then that I realised I’d been addicted to rushing for a long time. I was getting off on it. On being busy. On the stress and the drama of it all.

2020-2023: The Enlightenment Years

Then came the enlightenment years. 2020-2023. I had time to reflect and realise that I didn’t actually need to be a better version of myself. I just needed to be myself. The self that was there to start with, spread too thin and pulled in too many directions, losing sight of what was important. The self who read the Bhagavad Gita, fascinated by Zen Buddhism and Yoga, but also by the beauty of genuine people, and music, and art. The self who believed that life is an exciting learning journey.

I slowed down. I grieved former versions of myself that didn’t align with my values and finally moved on and felt whole again. I learned to feel happy in a body that’s ageing and plumper than I would like without stressing too much about it. I let myself be carried by the river of life.

 

My F*ck Off Era

Towards the end of 2023, I entered my “f*ck off era,” where I started putting things in place so I could be in alignment with the self that was there before, after peeling away a few layers of trauma and acquired habits that served no purpose. I learned to finally say no, the ultimate being saying no to my then-employer, who was not contributing to my mental wellbeing in a positive way.

Then came the feelings of inadequacy. Of “I’d love to do this, but I’m not good enough.” Of “they’re doing that much better than me.” Of “I wish I could stop eating to soothe my emotions.” I felt myself rushing again. From A to B. Launching a course and running myself into the ground trying to make it a success. Feeling crap at selling it (because I hate selling stuff). Getting bits of work to pay my bills but feeling pulled in directions I didn’t necessarily want to go into because what I wanted to do was sit down and write my book, but my brain gets clogged if there’s anything in my calendar that takes me away from my flow.

I couldn’t even enjoy writing on Substack anymore because I got bombarded by emails reminding me that I should start creating my next post to meet my publishing goals. Demands, demands, demands. My creativity then vanished, and the overwhelm came in. Then the rushing kicked in again. The self-destructive addiction to that feeling is more powerful than meth. The adrenaline. The stress. The drama. Get a little taste, and you go back for more. It felt like I was at the edge of a cliff. I looked down, and burnout loomed again. It’s scary.

I had to pull myself back onto safer ground and remind myself that it’s OK to let things fall through the cracks, that it hurts to disappoint people, but that it’s sometimes the only way to protect myself from breaking again. To keep myself whole while I keep learning. This might mean missing a deadline or choosing not to meet up. It feels uncomfortable, but now I’m aware of the long-lasting negative consequences of stretching myself and my dwindling energy to meet expectations.

The time I had to pause and reflect during the Enlightenment years helped me learn to sit with the feeling instead of trying to make it miraculously disappear, to realise that the only way out is through.

Meet Finn, my therapy dog 🐶

Worthy of Love

For years, I disliked people sharing how busy they were as a sign of status. As if abusing their minds and bodies was something to be proud of. I hated the brownie points of sending that email at 23:45 because the world would come to an end if someone hadn’t got that one particular bit of information in their inbox by early morning. But I got sucked into it. I played the game. And the game chewed me and spat me out.

And that’s cool. I’m glad it did because it was an eye-opener. It made me realise that I am worthy of love regardless of how much I’ve produced in a day and that life really is about the intangible, often ineffable, fleeting moments that can pass us by if we’re addicted to rushing.

Luckily, this time round, I have Finn to remind me of all of that. He couldn’t care less about how many successful contracts I have or how many PowerPoints I’ve created. I look into his eyes and am instantly reminded of what truly is important in life. And it ain’t rushing mindlessly from A to B in the purpose of transient pleasure or recognition, that’s for sure.

Balancing Self-Care with Expectations

It’s essential to recognise that self-care sometimes means letting people down gently. This might involve missing a soft deadline or choosing not to meet up with friends. While it can feel uncomfortable, stretching yourself and your already dwindling energy to meet every expectation can have long-lasting negative consequences. Remember, taking care of yourself is not only necessary but also a fundamental part of maintaining your overall wellbeing.

If you find yourself in a similar situation to mine, here are a few takeaways that might help:

1. Prioritise self-care: Understand that it’s okay to say no. Protecting your wellbeing is paramount, even if it means disappointing others sometimes.

2. Reflect on your values: Take time to understand what truly matters to you. Align your actions with your core values and let go of habits that no longer serve you.

3. Embrace imperfection: It’s okay not to be perfect. Accept that making mistakes and letting things fall through the cracks is part of the human experience. That’s what self-compassion is all about. Embrace it.

4. Find your anchor: Whether it’s a dog like Finn, a hobby, or a practice like walking, sawing, or painting, find something that grounds you and reminds you of what’s truly important.
   

I’m so grateful for the journey and for the awareness. For now, I’ll just keep hiding when I need to hide and come back out when I’m ready without feeling bad about it.

Love,