Me, My Life & Why Part 7

Part 7

It hit me while standing in the kitchen, holding a mug of tea I’d microwaved three times and still hadn’t drunk.

I had nothing to do.

And I didn’t know who I was without a list yelling at me.

That’s when it clicked:

Productivity is a cult.

And I? Was a high-ranking member.

Possibly in charge of snacks. Definitely involved in event planning.

I used to believe I wasn’t allowed to rest until everything was done.

Laundry folded. Inbox cleared. Life sorted into labelled containers with matching lids.

But here’s the plot twist:

It’s never done.

The laundry regenerates. The inbox refills. The list multiplies like it’s breeding in the dark.

So really, I was just punishing myself for a game I couldn’t win.

Sprinting toward a finish line that doesn’t exist.

And clapping politely at people who appeared to be winning, with their planners and colour-coded meal prep and “just get up earlier” energy.

I believed them.

I believed the podcasts and the articles and the bullet journal YouTubers with immaculate handwriting.

I believed if I just woke up at 5am, drank lemon water, and meditated through the urge to scream, I’d finally be one of those people who knows what a pension is.

Instead, I was doing breathing exercises while Googling “what counts as a small nervous breakdown.”

And the worst part? I felt guilty for not doing more.

Like rest had to be earned.

Like I needed permission to be tired.

Like sleep was only morally acceptable if it was part of a recovery arc leading to even more output.

That’s not rest. That’s capitalism in a hoodie.

I once made a to-do list so long it gave me a headache.

So I made another list: “things to do before doing the list.”

That included “light a candle” and “choose a playlist.”

Then I spiralled about whether the playlist should be lo-fi or classical.

Then I ate half a pack of biscuits and cried in the shower.

The list never got done.

But somehow, I still thought the problem was me.

So I decided to get honest.

I opened a fresh doc and wrote:

Signs I Might Be in a Productivity Cult:

Feels bad sitting down without multitasking

Thinks rest is a reward, not a right

Has scheduled “fun time” and then cancelled it for admin

Felt superior for using a calendar sticker

Said “I’ll rest when…” and never did

Has watched videos about morning routines while lying on the floor, motionless

There was a time when I called that being ambitious.

Now I think it was just internalised panic with good branding.

Because the truth is, I’m not lazy.

I’m exhausted.

Not from doing nothing, from doing everything, all the time, for everyone.

Performing competence. Performing wellness. Performing calm while slowly glitching inside.

What I needed wasn’t a better system.

It was an exit strategy.

So I stopped.

Stopped trying to optimise every corner of my existence.

Stopped measuring my worth in completed tasks and clean sinks.

Stopped trying to turn my life into a self-improvement project with progress bars and seasonal goals.

I let the dishes sit.

I let my inbox rot.

I watched three episodes of a cooking show I didn’t even like because it felt lawless and slightly inappropriate.

And the guilt?

Still there.

But quieter.

Like a bad jingle you eventually learn to ignore.

I don’t want to live in service of the to-do list anymore.

I don’t want “achievement unlocked” to be the only feeling that justifies my existence.

So now I write different lists.

Today’s Goals:

Be kind to the body I live in

Eat something with colour

Laugh at least once, even if it’s at a badly animated advert

Do one thing for future me

Forgive myself for not doing more

Turns out I don’t need a five-step routine to be a person.

I just need to stop treating rest like a moral failing.

And maybe delete the productivity apps before they become self-aware.