I ignored the warning; look what happened.

When the light on the dashboard goes off, best to look under the hood.

I’ll just come out and say it, shall I?

I don’t really know what happened to my June and July this year. They kind of got lost (or I got lost). Apart from obligations, hardly anything else got done. For sure, nothing in the category of creative or not-urgent-but-important stuff was even attempted. Forget about goals and quarterly plans; those were studiously ignored.

You might say, what’s the big deal? It’s summer. Everybody slows down in the summer and takes their vaca. But you see, this wasn’t like that. This felt more like a withdrawal, a backing away from reality... well, my reality.

Made this with DALL-E

A friend asked — delicately — if something had happened that caused the fleeing and the hiding. Since I’ve been diagnosed with clinical depression before, I appreciated the question. But I knew what the “d” felt like; this wasn’t it.

In truth, I’m not surprised that this happened. It was foreshadowed. The light on the dashboard had been blinking. But the warning was being ignored. No wonder it broke down.

My operating system had been signaling it needed a reboot but none was planned, so it took charge and forced the issue.

At the end of May, I hid in my cave and disengaged from the real world. On the other hand, though, I was entirely engaged — dare I say living in a whole other world.

What possessed me to re-read all seven Harry Potter books? And when that was done, I was bewitched — bewitched, I say! — to tackle Deborah Harkness’ All Souls trilogy. Cross my heart, I am generally not into the magical worlds of wizards and witches and vampires and daemons and such. (Or maybe I developed a taste and just didn’t know?!?)

Sure, there were lucid moments during those lost weeks, during which I managed to talk some sense to myself in an increasingly panicked voice. “Lou, what are you doing? You gotta stop this. What are you doing? You have things to do, goals to pursue. What are you doing? Get back to your life!”

Alas, it took about nine weeks, into the beginning of August, for the wake-up calls to finally register. And when I woke up, I was disoriented and shocked. I likened it to a bear waking up from a long hibernation. What in the world? I went to bed in May, it’s August?!?

• • •

Earlier in the year, the idea of slowing down suddenly became an irresistible idea. I couldn’t stop thinking about it and talking about it. I picked up books on the subject: Cal Newport’s Slow Productivity, Celeste Headlee’s Do Nothing, Jenny Odell’s How To Do Nothing. I binge-listened to the Hurry Slowly podcast. The Pocket app overflowed with articles.

But it was all in my head, you see. I’m embarrassed to admit it had all been a mental exercise. I was nodding my head vigorously but not actually doing anything. The plate looked as full as ever. The goals were not being adjusted (despite my proclaimed plan of reprioritizing the projects), the schedule tight as it had always been.

And most telling, I was still answering, “I’m soooo busy.” when asked how I was doing — and secretly feeling chuffed that I was oh, so busy. Have I not learned anything? (bows head in shame.)

• • •

The thing is, it’s not like I forgot all about my “productive plans” while I was hiding in the cave. There was the voice… you know that voice… that nagged every chance she got, pointing to the growing list of tasks, making me feel guilty for checking out. The result being I couldn’t even truly enjoy the unplanned downtime. Talk about a double whammy.

But you know, it’s all good in the end. (The silver lining, y’all.) Sometimes, we must be forced to see the mess to realize we need to open the windows and do a major house cleaning.

Coming out of this hibernation, I am forced to see a few things:

1. There are two parts of me. One that clings to my old habits and internal stories about productivity, and work, and laziness, and idleness, and what all these must mean about my worth and value. This part of me has been there since my student days and my corporate days, and it’s the one I am most comfortable with.

The other part of me knows better and, I suspect, has always been there. She just hasn’t had much of a voice. But she’s found her footing now and wants to be heard. And she’s the one I’d like to give the megaphone to now.

2. It’s scary to let go of the familiar narratives, even though you know letting them go is what must be done. Jocelyn K. Glei, in her Hurry Slowly podcast, once asked, “Who are you without the doing?” … and I have yet to fully internalize that question.

3. I must resist the default mode of keeping pace with a world that beats with an unceasing rhythm. This world values efficiency, optimization, a sense of urgency. And the part of me that’s found her voice doesn’t value those things much. She wants depth, and meanderings, and natural ebbing and flowing. She wants to dance to a new beat — not the same one I’ve been dancing to all my life.

“A sane person to an insane society must appear insane.” — Kurt Vonnegut

Some quick changes I made since waking up:

• I put the Second Breaks podcast on pause. The podcast is a favorite project, and it was hard to deprioritize it. I explained my reasoning here.

• I “right-sized” my expectations about my travel plans (the one I’m currently on). I’ve decided to give myself grace and to prioritize what’s important for me to experience during this trip.

• I revised my plans for the next six months to reflect planned slower months and rest time! There’s hope for me!

So, I’m feeling much better after these admissions and making some quick changes. I’ll let you know in a few months how all this is going.

If the idea of “slower living” appeals to you, do check out

Claudia Brose

’s publication, Un-Rush.

Cool Beans,
Lou Blaser

P.S. Won’t you consider tapping the 🧡, restacking this post, and/or leaving a comment? It’ll mean so much to hear from you.