Breaking Free from the Illusion of Time: Thinking vs. Doing vs. Being
Breaking the chains of overthinking and overdoing
Time.
We think we don’t have enough of it. Other times, we feel like we have too much. And sometimes, paradoxically, we believe both at once.
We push tasks to tomorrow, saying, “I’ll do it when I have more time.”
We stress over unfinished to-do lists, saying, “I don’t have enough time for everything.”
We plan for the future as if it’s guaranteed, but in reality, the only time we ever truly have is now.
And yet, we live as though time is a constant battle—something to control, chase, or manage. We forget that time itself is an illusion, a construct we’ve created to bring structure to our lives. But what happens when we give into this illusion?
The Problem: How Overthinking and Overdoing Keep Us Stuck
Instead of simply doing, we overthink. Instead of simply being, we overdo.
We convince ourselves that certain things are burdens when, in reality, they are simply part of life.
Think about it—how many times have you looked at your house and thought: “Ugh, I always have laundry to do. My house never really feels clean. There are always dishes piling up.”
Now ask yourself—why is that a “bad” thing?
Laundry exists because you have clothes to wear. Dishes exist because you are feeding yourself. A home needs to be maintained because you have a space to live in. These aren’t burdens. They are privileges.
But when we label them as never-ending or exhausting, we add unnecessary stress. We turn simple, natural parts of human existence into problems.
And this doesn’t just apply to housework. We do this with our schedules, our routines, our work, our relationships. We either tell ourselves we don’t have enough time, or we convince ourselves we’re wasting time when we’re not constantly being productive.
The truth? Time isn’t the issue. Our perception of time is.
The Solution: Shifting Into the State of Being
Instead of planning every little thing—just do it.
Instead of analyzing every moment—just be in it.
When we exist in a state of presence, everything flows naturally. We don’t have to overthink. We don’t have to force.
This doesn’t mean we abandon responsibility. It means we stop seeing responsibility as a burden and instead embrace it as part of life.
You are allowed to rest.
You are allowed to enjoy your existence instead of just managing it.
If we constantly view time as something we lack, we will always feel like we’re racing against it. But if we start existing in the present, we reclaim our power.
Breaking Free From the Construct of Time
Let’s take a step back and look at what we’ve built as a society. We have divided time into:
- 24-hour days
- 7-day weeks
- 365-day years (except for leap years, of course)
- Months that follow an inconsistent pattern
But this is all our creation. Nature doesn’t follow a calendar. The universe doesn’t operate on a 9-to-5 schedule.
We have created this structure, and yet we let it dictate every part of our existence.
It’s time to break free.
A New Way Forward: Living in the Present
The life you desire—the love, the security, the abundance—it is all rooted in your ability to be present. The more you live in the now, the more easily things flow to you.
So today, instead of worrying about what you should be doing, ask yourself:
- How can I be more present in this moment?
- How can I shift from overthinking into simply doing?
- How can I allow myself to exist instead of forcing myself to perform?
Because when you exist fully, life begins to exist fully for you.
About the Creator
Eva A. Schellinger
Content Creator, Writer, and host of Elaborations with SchellingtonGrin. Come on in, make yourself at home.
Keep reading
More stories from Eva A. Schellinger and writers in Motivation and other communities.
Time is Not Precious: What You Do With It Is
In a world that moves at breakneck speed, we’ve all heard the phrase "time is precious." It’s a sentiment that’s deeply ingrained in our collective consciousness. But what if time itself isn’t what’s truly precious? What if, instead, the value lies in how we choose to spend the time we are given?
By Eva A. Schellingerabout a year ago in Motivation
I Never Chose the Easy Path; I Always Chose Hardship
From the earliest memories I can recall, life presented me with two roads. One was smooth, inviting, and well-trodden—a path that promised comfort, approval, and ease. The other was rough, rocky, and uncertain—a path of struggle, obstacles, and lessons that demanded effort, patience, and resilience. I never chose the smooth road. I never took shortcuts. Not because I was fearless, but because something deep inside refused to let me live a life that wasn’t earned. The easy path whispered promises of fleeting satisfaction, fleeting success, and fleeting recognition. It was tempting. Many around me chose it, and I often wondered if I was foolish for ignoring it. But I learned early that true growth is rarely convenient. The easiest choice often leads to emptiness, to regret, to a quiet knowing that you could have been more than you allowed yourself to be. Hardship became my teacher long before success ever noticed me. The lessons it offered were harsh, uncompromising, and often lonely. There were days when choosing the hard path felt like choosing isolation. While others were celebrated for small accomplishments, supported by friends and family, I walked in silence, with doubt as my companion. Progress was invisible to the world. Failures were frequent and relentless. Many nights, I returned home tired, my heart heavy, my mind questioning why I even bothered. Yet even in that silence, I was being shaped. I was learning the value of persistence, of dedication, and of refusing to give up on myself. The hard path forced honesty. It refused to allow excuses. It stripped away illusions and pretenses. I was left face-to-face with my limits, my fears, and my own humanity. On this path, I discovered strengths I never knew I had: patience I had never cultivated, resilience I had doubted, and self-respect that grew every time I stood up instead of walking away. These were not lessons that could be taught in comfort. They were only learned in struggle, in challenge, and in the quiet persistence of refusing to quit when no one was watching. I remember one time vividly. I had a goal that seemed impossible—one that required me to sacrifice comfort, leisure, and social approval. The easy path was right there: a way to avoid the challenge, to be “okay,” to follow what others had done before me. Many advised me to take it. “It’s safer,” they said. “It’s simpler,” they said. But I could feel, deep inside, that taking the easy way would leave me empty. I chose the hard path. The journey was grueling. Every step felt like pushing against gravity. But with each challenge, I gained more than I ever would have on the easy road. I gained endurance, confidence, and an understanding that real achievement is never handed—it is earned. Strength, I realized, isn’t loud. It doesn’t announce itself. It grows quietly, in the moments no one sees—the early mornings, the long nights, the repeated failures, the times you push forward when giving up would be understandable. Resilience is not simply surviving; it is deliberately choosing to continue, to stand again, to pursue the path that tests you the most. It is knowing that walking away is easier but will never lead to the person you are capable of becoming. I have walked many hard roads in life. Each one was different, yet the lessons were the same: comfort cannot teach endurance, shortcuts cannot teach discipline, and fleeting success cannot teach respect. Every struggle, no matter how small, adds to your character. Every failure is a mirror that shows you who you really are. And every choice to face hardship instead of fleeing builds a foundation that lasts long after temporary victories fade. There were times when I felt truly alone. People around me often misunderstood my choices. Friends, family, colleagues—they all questioned why I refused the easy way, why I worked harder, why I pushed myself beyond what seemed necessary. They didn’t see the growth happening quietly inside me. They didn’t see the small victories, the lessons learned, the resilience being forged. But eventually, the results spoke for themselves—not in a loud announcement, but in the quiet confidence and self-respect that I had built from the inside out. Life, I have learned, rewards those who endure hardship. Not always immediately. Not always visibly. But it rewards those who persist, who face struggle head-on, and who refuse to settle for anything less than becoming their fullest selves. Success that comes without effort is temporary; strength and self-respect are eternal. Hardship tests us, but it also teaches us. It shows us the depth of our own courage, the strength of our will, and the power of refusing to surrender. The lessons of the hard path are subtle, often invisible, and always lasting. I learned that failing is not shameful; failing is a necessary step toward mastery. I learned that enduring pain, even when no one notices, builds a type of strength that comfort never can. I learned that the more difficult the path, the deeper the reward—not measured in wealth or fame, but in character, wisdom, and self-respect. Every choice to embrace struggle instead of avoiding it shaped me. Every sacrifice, every extra hour, every moment of doubt faced instead of ignored, added to the foundation of the person I am today. My life was not easy. It was messy, unpredictable, and often overwhelming. But it was authentic. It was mine. And through hardship, I became resilient. I became someone who can face challenges without fear because I have faced them before. I became someone who respects themselves because I have honored my own effort. I became someone capable of growth because I refused to choose comfort over character. I often reflect on the people around me who chose the easy path. Many of them achieved quick victories, immediate recognition, and temporary peace. But over time, I noticed something important: the victories were shallow, the peace fleeting, and the growth minimal. They lacked the depth of resilience, the quiet power of self-respect, and the profound satisfaction that comes from knowing you endured, you learned, and you became someone stronger. Choosing hardship is not glamorous. It is not celebrated in real-time. It is often lonely, exhausting, and demanding. But it is transformative. It shapes your mind, your heart, and your spirit in ways comfort never can. It teaches discipline, patience, humility, and courage. It makes failure meaningful, effort valuable, and success earned. The hard path is where true people are made—people who understand that life’s challenges are not punishments, but opportunities. Opportunities to become better, stronger, wiser, and more capable. I never chose the easy path. I always chose the harder road, the one that tested me, the one that demanded effort, and the one that required me to face myself honestly. I walked through fear, doubt, exhaustion, and setbacks. I fell, and I got up. I failed, and I tried again. I cried, I questioned, I endured. And through it all, I became someone I could respect, someone who knew the value of persistence, someone who understood that hardship is not the enemy—it is the greatest teacher. Today, I measure success differently. I do not measure it by comfort, convenience, or ease. I measure it by growth, resilience, and the depth of self-respect I have cultivated. I measure it by how I faced challenges I could not ignore, how I embraced struggles that seemed unbearable, and how I refused to take shortcuts at the cost of my own becoming. I never chose the easy path. I chose the one that made me resilient. I chose the one that taught me self-respect. I chose the one that allowed me to become the person I am today. And if I had the choice again, I would choose the hard path every single time. Because the road of struggle is not only a journey—it is the making of a human being.writing...
By Ihtisham Ulhaqa day ago in Motivation
Comments (1)
Good to know how to break free! Yay! Great work.