On Wednesday, when I had just the one son to look after while the other was at pre-school, I had a lengthy to-do list to conquer during nap time. I had spent the morning packing broken toys into black bin bags and I had my eye on my knicker drawer to sort next, then maybe I could go through my winter clothes, iron my stripey top collection for the week, write something for Substack and then I would rest.
Of course, the law is that when you want to do something during the nap, the nap will never come. I spent an hour reading and rereading books, hoping that my son would eventually roll onto his side and stay in his bed, quietly dropping off into what was becoming a much needed slumber, but no. It became apparent it wasn’t happening. With each book that I read, ten minutes would pass, maybe twenty and I would mentally cross off something on my to do list. I was running out of time, it would only be a few more hours and I would have to pick up my other son. They day would be over. I’d have to do it another day. I soon realised I had to concede and force him to sleep with a buggy stroll. The kind of nap which usually I am grateful for but where I am walking, this time in the rain, or standing on a bus, going somewhere, hoping by sacrificing my own rest, my son might get some.
Except, I wasn’t going to rest was I? That was my last thing on the list of things that didn’t get done. I had apparently rendered it the least priority.
Similarly I am writing this newsletter after what was quite an intense day of freelance work, knowing that I will have to work again tomorrow. I write because I love doing it, and in some ways I consider writing to be rest, but I know it isn’t the sit on the sofa and watch crappy telly kind of rest, the kind that I probably need.
On the day the nap went wrong, I managed to walk all the way to a coffee shop in the high street, where I took cover from the pouring rain. I treated myself to a hot chocolate and a chocolate caramel shortbread slice that I promise I was intending to share, and read a few pages from Four Thousand Weeks.
In the book Oliver Burkeman introduces us to the fact that on average we will have four thousand weeks to live, and provides a sustainable alternative to managing and viewing our time. One of the points he makes is that we often find ways to manage our time better, using whatever productivity hacks we need in order to get all the things done, but what happens is we often make the mistake of adding things to the to do list, so we never feel like we have enough time. We are always busy.
“Productivity is a trap. Becoming more efficient just makes you more rushed, and trying to clear the decks simply makes them fill up again faster.”
Oliver Burkeman, Four Thousand Weeks
I like to be busy.
I am overwhelmed.
I need more time.
I need more rest.
I am always busy. I have a lot to do, sure but it is not the children and endless piles of washing which keep me busy, it isn’t that loaded dishwasher waiting to be emptied that I can blame for my lack of rest. There are many things I want to do and many things I want to get done.
I want to write; I started writing a novel.
I am trying to keep up with multiple social media accounts.
I planned to update my website.
I want to read; I have many many unread books.
One half of a knitted sock remains unfinished gathering dust on the shelf.
I want to draw; I am trying to keep a sketchbook.
I want to journal more regularly.
I want to watch telly; when am I going to watch EastEnders?
Nothing has a deadline, so everything mulling away in the background means that I can dip in and out until I finish the task, the tasks I have often set myself, but something shinier always catches my eye. I get easily distracted because nothing needs to get done, yet everything feels urgent. It feels like it should already have been done. This endless to do list makes me anxious.
Frustratingly, motherhood has made me busy but it has also made me feel so much more creative. I have ideas of things to do all the time. I often mull over ideas for this newsletter or how I can develop the novel I am (still) working on, yet the time to work on it never appears. I have thousands of notes on my phone, which no longer make sense to me having written them so long ago. Moments of inspiration are literally evaporating before I get chance to grasp them.
I am only part way through Burkeman’s book, but it has hit me early on that I won’t be able to do everything. Perhaps I am going to have to let some things go and I could well die before I finish knitting that sock.
There are books on the shelves that I have snatched from charity shops because they were £1 and I recognised the cover from Bookstagram, but really am I ever going to have the time to read all of these books? Is the fact that they are sitting on the shelf judging me each evening while I scroll through my phone adding to my sense of overwhelm?
We live in a society which monetises time. We try to use our time most efficiently, often doing two things at once - in order to make the best use of our time. Time becomes something we try to dominate and control. Burkeman says that “the fundamental problem is that this attitude towards time sets up a rigged game in which it is impossible to feel as though you are doing well enough. Instead of simply living our lives as they unfold through time…it becomes difficult not to value each moment primarily according to its usefulness for some future goal, or for some future oasis of relaxation you hope to reach once your tasks are finally ‘out of the way.’”
Even reading it, I had bought it along to the coffee shop in the hope it might inspire me somehow, be useful for my Substack, maybe. I took photos of pages on my phone, something I know I will have to sort through at some point, but I can’t help it; I find it interesting. I want to share it.
I really am struggling to master a work-life balance, more so now I have children. I am working part-time, but full-time mothering, and I still try to do the things I was trying to do when I wasn’t working. I didn’t manage to do them all when I had “time off” on maternity leave, yet now I am booking work into that time, the to-do list has only got longer.
When I have read this book, assuming that I find the time to finish it, it will be the starting point to having to confront this issue, but for now I will put it to one side.
I am sure I will get round to it one day.
Do you think there is such a thing as a work-life balance?
With limited time, how do you decide which projects to do and which to let go?
I would love to hear you thoughts, come join me in the comments.
Highly recommend The Art of Rest by Claudia Hammond. She covers all the different types of rest there is. It’s not always sitting on the sofa, though sometimes it absolutely is!
I feel All Of This.