The Comfort Zone of Busy Work
My story of ecapism.
Last Tuesday, I sat down to write at my favorite coffee shop, laptop open, favorite latte in hand, intentions set. Three hours later, I listened to one podcast, watched a YouTube video on writing tips, and updated my Notion workspace. I'd done everything except write.
As I packed up to leave, a familiar wave of regret washed over me. I'd done this dance before - filling hours with almost-productive tasks while avoiding the real work. An uncomfortable truth hit me: Was I just distracted, or was I deliberately escaping from something deeper?
At first glance, distraction and escapism might seem like the same thing - after all, both pull me away from what I originally planned to do. But lately I've noticed there's actually a big difference. Distraction is usually quick and random - a notification pops up, a text message pings, and suddenly I'm checking my phone, or my mind drifts off to thoughts about what to make for dinner.
Escapism, though, is more deliberate. It's when I consciously choose to avoid something because it makes me uncomfortable. (And trust me, I've gotten creative with all the ways I can escape.)
I recently told my writing coach that I feel like my 18-year-old self is rebelling. I was starting to recognize a pattern I'd lived before. In college, I like to joke that I earned straight A's in socializing, filling my time with parties, concerts, and football games while my homework waited patiently at home. Now, decades later, I find myself falling into similar patterns, though the escapes look different: binge-watching writing tutorials, creating elaborate organization systems, and excessively planning what to write - basically, everything but actually doing it.
Through my energy work and tapping practice, I've discovered what's really driving these elaborate escapes: that nagging voice whispering 'your writing isn't good enough.' But here's the irony – the critic I'm running from isn't an external authority anymore. It's myself.
I've internalized that strict parent and rigorous teacher from my youth, becoming my own harshest judge. Every time I sit down to write, that voice gets louder, and suddenly reorganizing my entire desktop seems like a perfectly reasonable alternative to facing the blank page.
This internal taskmaster served me well in many ways. It helped me succeed in business, raise a family, maintain a home, and meet high standards in my work. But now in my 60s, I'm finding myself in an internal tug-of-war. The perfectionist voice that motivated me to do better is now the very thing I'm trying to escape.
As Elizabeth Gilbert wisely notes in her book "Big Magic": "Perfectionism is just fear in fancy shoes and a mink coat, pretending to be elegant when actually it's just terrified. Because underneath that shiny veneer, perfectionism is nothing more than a deep existential angst that says, again and again, 'I am not good enough and I will never be good enough.'"
This hits home for me. The things I've been calling "distractions" aren't really distractions at all. When I'm diving into yet another article on writing tips, I'm not just getting sidetracked - I'm actively choosing to escape. Maybe for others it's endlessly researching the perfect workout plan instead of going to the gym, or watching hours of DIY videos instead of starting that home project. These tasks satisfy our inner micromanager while keeping us safely away from what our hearts are nudging us to create.
The sensitive, introverted child who felt criticized when told to do better still lives within me. But now I understand that my parents and teachers weren't just being demanding – they saw my potential and wanted me to reach it. The challenge today isn't about fighting that inner critic but learning to work with it: acknowledging our capabilities without letting perfectionism lead us down endless paths of productive-looking detours.
The solution isn't to eliminate all distractions or to never take breaks. It's about getting honest with ourselves. When I feel that urge to rewrite my to do list instead of rewriting that difficult paragraph, I need to pause and ask: Am I taking a genuine breather, or am I running away because that little voice is whispering "you're not good enough"?
Next time you feel that familiar tug of resistance in your body - that knot in your stomach or tightness in your chest when facing something challenging - pause for a moment. That uncomfortable feeling isn't your enemy - it's often a sign you're about to do something that matters.
The real question isn't how to avoid the discomfort, but how to sit with it long enough to do the hard thing anyway. Sometimes the most productive thing we can do is simply begin.
….. until next time many many sweet blessings.