This week, after reading I Refuse to be Busy (excerpt below) in the New York Times, I felt compelled to share the article. Unlike the author, I like to be busy. I thrive on managing chaos and bringing order in my life. However, as a confessed pragmatic optimist, doing things just right or “perfect” isn’t a stumbling block. I am a get-her-done kind of woman. With this in mind, my busyness is intentional, just like the author’s own version.
I agree with the author that being busy is a choice. I choose to use energy and focus where it matters to me: family, home, work and travel. So, if a child complains about participation in an activity, we see the commitment through, and not register again. However, if they put there heart in it, I will drive all over, bring snacks, homework clipboards, and my computer to work remotely remote, embracing my busy stage of work-life.
What do you think? Do you crave busy or calm? Share your thoughts with me.
“I’m not busy.
Are you shocked? It feels almost wrong to say, in this moment when all my fellow parents reply to my “Hey, how’s it going?” with “Busy! Always busy!” and even fill in the same response for me: “How are you? Busy, I’m sure!”
But I’m not. I hate being busy. Busy implies a rushed sense of cheery urgency, a churning motion, a certain measure of impending chaos, all of which make me anxious. Busy is being in one place doing one thing with the nagging sense you that you ought to be somewhere else doing something different. I like to be calm. I like to have nothing in particular to do and nowhere in particular to be. And as often as I can — even when I’m dropping a child off here or there, or running an errand, or waving in the carpool line — I don’t think of myself as busy. I’m where I need to be, doing, for the most part, what I want to do.”