What if you didn’t have to burn it all down?
The six things I do as soon as I realise I’m too busy to actually enjoy my life
One of the biggest signs that I need to slow down is a feeling that goes a little something like this:
“There’s so much good stuff happening in my life but I’m frustrated that I can’t seem to enjoy it.”
It’s usually accompanied by thoughts such as:
“This is everything I have ever asked for, so why don’t I feel more grateful?”
And:
“Is *gestures wildly* all of this actually what I want?!”
Let’s not forget this absolute classic:
“I’ll be able to relax and enjoy this more once X happens.”
I am not alone in this feeling. Right back in the first century, the Stoic philosopher Seneca wrote 1
“The greatest obstacle to living is expectancy, which hangs upon tomorrow and loses today. You are arranging what lies in Fortune’s control, and abandoning what lies in yours. What are you looking at? To what goal are you straining? The whole future lies in uncertainty: live immediately.”
Live immediately.
Live immediately! How simple a remedy that sounds. For all of us out here rushing through life because we’re so focused on getting to the next thing, apparently we just need to… be present?
Be honest: that advice can be kind of annoying, can’t it? (yes).
I think the most interesting word here is “expectancy”: this habit of looking ahead for the thing that will finally allow us to relax into our lives. But of course the future is entirely uncertain! It’s no wonder then that when life feels bleurgh, it can seem a strong choice to burn it all down and blow up the present for the possibility of a new one.
I’m a fan of a bold life upheaval — quitting the job and the relationship, moving continents, starting again — but it’s not the only option available to us. Sometimes the choice we most need to make is choosing to get better at being where we are while we’re there.
Not as sexy as an Eat Pray Love moment, I hear you.
But perhaps less destructive and definitely more affordable.
You’ll know which option is most suited to your current life circumstances, and I’m here to cheer you on if a breakup and a trip to Belize is on the cards.
But if you have an inkling that the issue isn’t necessarily where you are, but that you’re struggling to actually be where you are while you are there, that’s what I want to talk about today.
Buddhist teacher Stephen Levine said, “Hell is wanting to be something and somewhere different from where you are”2, and that sounds awful but accurate, so let’s try not to do that.
Live immediately.
Live immediately! How simple a remedy that sounds. For all of us out here rushing through life because we’re so focused on getting to the next thing, apparently we just need to… be present?
Be honest: that advice can be kind of annoying, can’t it? (yes).
I think the most interesting word here is “expectancy”: this habit of looking ahead for the thing that will finally allow us to relax into our lives. But of course the future is entirely uncertain! It’s no wonder then that when life feels bleurgh, it can seem a strong choice to burn it all down and blow up the present for the possibility of a new one.
I’m a fan of a bold life upheaval — quitting the job and the relationship, moving continents, starting again — but it’s not the only option available to us. Sometimes the choice we most need to make is choosing to get better at being where we are while we’re there.
Not as sexy as an Eat Pray Love moment, I hear you.
But perhaps less destructive and definitely more affordable.
You’ll know which option is most suited to your current life circumstances, and I’m here to cheer you on if a breakup and a trip to Belize is on the cards.
But if you have an inkling that the issue isn’t necessarily where you are, but that you’re struggling to actually be where you are while you are there, that’s what I want to talk about today.
Buddhist teacher Stephen Levine said, “Hell is wanting to be something and somewhere different from where you are”2, and that sounds awful but accurate, so let’s try not to do that.
Here are the exact levers I pull when I realise I’ve stopped enjoying my life.
Woman Reading a Letter, Johannes Vermeer, c. 1663, oil on canvas.
1. I do a phone audit.
I know, we’ve heard it a million times, but we could all do with making our phones more boring. There are many ways to do this:
- you can delete distracting apps or get an app blocker.
- you can make your phone black and white.
- you can buy a little locked box that it lives in when you do not need it.
- you can sleep away from your phone, etc.
These strategies all work and I use different ones in different seasons of life.
I’ve got the app blocker Opal on my phone right now — in the first couple and final hours of my day, it blocks all apps besides my phone’s ability to make and receive calls, my morning prayer app, music, camera, and my sleep tracking app.
I also have another rule (that can’t be changed) that blocks Instagram and Substack (my two worst offenders) across those hours and it cannot be changed while the rule is in action, even if I delete the app.
For me, it’s the bookends of my day that I most benefit from protecting. I want to have my morning coffee and evening couch hang in peace, in presence, without the pull of my phone drawing me out of my life.
2. I take some walks without headphones.
Walking is one of my favourite ways to relax and clear my head, but it’s also hilarious to me how easily I can turn it into a multi-tasking mission on steroids.
One minute I head out for a soothing stroll, next minute I’m power walking to get my 10,000 steps in while also listening to lessons from a course I’m taking while also pausing those lessons to send and receive audio notes from friends while also exercising my dog while also trying to forest bathe and breathe in that sweet nature time.
Last year I experimented with six months of walking without my headphones! I felt way more present to the people around me and in my neighbourhood. I have to watch the part of me that tries to over-optimise everything, and so now I do try just one or two quiet walks a week. It can genuinely feel uncomfortable for me at first — like, just give me something to listen to!! — but the mental processing time is unmatched.
Next level is taking my physical camera with me to take photos on my walk!
Somewhere in the South of France, near Bordeaux, on an old film camera. September 2011.
3. I make my next bleed as restful as possible.
This one is probably the most on-brand thing I could possibly say, but the ROI is just too good. I’m not saying I spend five days in a dark room eating chocolate and avoiding my inbox, but I’m not not saying I do that. Haha. Honestly, there’s a little bit of that, but mostly I allow myself the interruption and inconvenience of menstruating.
I’ll lie down a little more, use reusable pads instead of a cup or tampon so I can actually feel myself bleeding, and do some yoga nidra, journaling and pottering; the things I know help my body rest.
Same goes for my luteal phase. It’s like a built-in monthly reminder to slow down, be here, breathe it in, feel, and notice.
Surrendering to my menstrual cycle and being with it as it is rather than trying to override it, helps me apply this thinking in my actual life. I don’t have to force spring when I’m actually in winter.
4. I catch some sunrises and sunsets.
Again, there’s something about protecting those bookends of the day. And of course there’s the quote from Cheryl Strayed’s mum that has stayed with me all these years 3:
“There’s always a sunrise and always a sunset and it’s up to you to choose to be there for it. Put yourself in the way of beauty.”
Think about when you’re on holidays, just how much the sunset orients your entire afternoon and evening. We do everything we can to see it! And then… forget about it in ordinary time?
I’m not thinking about tomorrow or next April when I’m watching the sun go down or come up. I believe we’re wired to respond to that kind of natural beauty with our presence.
Same sun seen here in my photo roll across Mexico, Greece, Italy, England, India and Guatemala.
5. I spend time in my garden.
Right now, my garden is a shell of itself which is always a sign that I have been hurrying about. I’m not a great or knowledgeable gardener, but I do know how to do a little and I enjoy it a LOT.
The smell of the soil is so nostalgic for me; it reminds me of planting strawberries with my mum. The joy (and honestly, smugness) of waltzing out to my herb garden to pick a few leaves to add to my cooking is unrivalled.
And the reward of planting something, slowly tending to do it and watching it grow, even when it doesn’t bloom the way I hoped it would (especially when?) seems to re-wire the part of my brain that just wants to hurry to the next thing. This is a particularly healthy reminder for someone like me.
I went to our local garden centre just yesterday to buy a few more plants and have a weeding session scheduled for this afternoon, with the sole aim of plugging myself back into my life a bit.
6. I take one thing off my plate.
Sometimes, a big or medium-sized rock needs to go. I have a lot of big rocks on my plate right now: I’m planning a wedding, puppy wrangling, running my business, going through IVF, hosting a 40th birthday party next week, navigating a health thing or two.
So in this season of life, I’ve decided to park a couple of creative projects I had brewing. Ugh, it stings! Especially when those projects are fun and meaningful.
But as Cal Newport says 4,
“When you agree to a new commitment, be it a minor task or a large project, it brings with it a certain amount of ongoing administrative overhead... This overhead tax activates as soon as you take on a new responsibility.”
My brain does not work well with a lot of overhead tax. I’m happiest with 2-3 projects on the go, not twenty.
This is tricky for someone like me who indeed has twenty things she could happily work on at any given time, and it’s one of the most common issues I coach creative women on. It has only benefited me to get really good at saying: “That project would be great to work on, but not for me, and not right now.”
Getting help and/or paying someone else to do the thing is also a possibility. Last week I hired both a wedding planner and a dog walker. A weekly cleaner is also a non-negotiable for me.
So there you have it: I do a phone audit, take a couple quiet walks, bleed well, watch a sunrise, plant some rosemary, and put something (or two somethings) down.
And when I notice myself thinking, I’ll enjoy this more when X happens, I try pausing there. Because what if I didn’t wait? And what if I didn’t have to burn it all down, either?
What if the life you’re waiting for is already happening, right now, this very moment? I suspect it might be.
It certainly is for me.
Big love,
Claire x
1 Seneca, L. A. (1932). On the shortness of life. In J. W. Basore (Trans.), Seneca: Moral essays (Vol. 2, pp. 286–341). Harvard University Press. (Original work published c. 49)
2 I first read this quote 14 years ago in Geneen Roth’s book Women, Food & Good: An Unexpected Path to Almost Everything (2010). That book is one of a few genuinely life-changing books for me.
3 From Wild, of course! Strayed, C. (2012). Wild: From lost to found on the Pacific Crest Trail.
4 Newport, C. (2024). Slow productivity: The lost art of accomplishment without burnout.
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