Mindfulness and Rest: Keys to Productivity

Growing up, I joined egg hunts in the field behind the clubhouse, which hosted my early birthday parties and all the swim meets because it shared space with the pool. Each family contributed as many eggs as their children would collect. I always hoped to find the egg with the twenty-dollar bill hidden by HOA board members, but never did. My neighborhood had two subdivisions: one large, with over a hundred houses and amenities, and mine, with fewer than thirty houses and no direct access to those amenities. I didn’t mind; it felt like a community, and I knew most neighbors. It felt a little lonely during egg hunts, since I didn’t know many kids from the larger area. I always liked hunting eggs on the wooden playground, even though carpenter bees scared me.

The memory that stands out is the year my dad took us, and I lost sight of him. A mom helped me look and asked what my dad looked like. In my distress, I only said he was tall. She said, “Okay, let’s stand here and look.” I soon spotted him and ran to rejoin him and my siblings. He wasn’t far away, and the mom, Ms. Hazel, turned out to be our neighbor. She introduced herself to my dad and laughed—he’s 6’6, actually tall. She thought I meant ‘all dads are tall’ because every four-year-old sees their dad that way. Eventually, egg hunts stopped. We painted eggs at home, and then stopped that, too. My egg-hunting days ended partly because of sensory issues and a fear of ant bites. I always had chocolate and Easter treats, so I didn’t need to hunt for goodies. Other activities—dying eggs, making bird nests, keeping Grandma J from eating my chocolate—became Easter pastimes.

Now, I enjoy egg hunts again, this time as the hider. I’ve helped with my church’s annual hunt for years, one of my favorite Easter traditions. This year, rain forced us indoors, but the fun remained. Stuffed sheep became soft egg-hiding spots. The organizer found creative hiding places, and the children had a great time, even inside. Afterward, there were refreshments and other Easter activities. I worked on a puzzle, which a group of children finished—I’m not great at puzzles. Besides meeting new people, it was nice catching up with old friends. Religious holidays often bring people back to church and create a relaxed space to reconnect.

While I was hiding the eggs, I realized that hunting for eggs as a child is like chasing milestones and “prizes” in adulthood. So much of adulthood seems focused on achieving various accomplishments, but being present and enjoying each moment is just as important. Many loved ones I shared past holidays with are now gone, so I want to be more mindful and not rush through the time I still have with people I care about. Turning 30 last year made me even more aware that time isn’t guaranteed. I’m continually working on appreciating the present, finding a balance between striving and being fully present.

My urge to work is strongest during leisure—exercise classes or time in nature—when I hear the voice suggesting I should have brought my laptop. Earlier in my career, after a breakup, I worked even longer hours and often took work home. As I started a new relationship, I found a better balance, but I still use work as an escape, especially in uncomfortable social situations. Mindfulness, relaxation, and socializing demand more of me than starting up my laptop. From a young age, I turned to academics for comfort, avoiding messy social situations. Now, working extra hours when I feel socially anxious is still my default. The difference is I now justify it—economic instability, job insecurity, the need to prove myself. I check my motives for bringing work home and counter this reflex by exercising, practicing mindfulness, and getting involved in Bible study. It feels odd, but I’m learning to make rest deliberate.

I am realizing that I have long measured my worth by productivity, both personally and professionally. This impulse to prove myself through effort affects every area of life. While family support and therapy have helped, I still instinctively believe I must work harder in times of conflict. Over time, I’ve learned that I can’t control every outcome, and sometimes it’s better to let go than to work more. Ultimately, my value isn’t guaranteed by constant productivity, reinforcing my main message about the importance of balance and rest.

I have a partner I enjoy spending time with, immediate and extended family I also want to spend time with, as well as friends, and I also have skills I want to develop, conferences I want to attend, and additional professional events on my list. This will all only get more complicated if and when I have a baby that needs care, and navigating that will be its own challenge.

If I stopped working, the thoughts and feelings I avoid would still be there. So what do I do when I love being busy and dislike stillness? I’ve started practicing short periods of silence. Sometimes I work or walk on the treadmill without listening to anything—it’s my exposure therapy, teaching myself that stillness isn’t scary. I make a point of spending time with my cats, even when there’s work to do, because I know time with them is limited. Willow’s illness last year reminded me to cherish those moments. Now, when I hear the urge to work, I remind myself that rest is valuable. I also remind myself that without rest, I won’t be effective at work in the long term.

When it comes to practical advice for others, the first thing I want to say is that I still don’t have it all together. My lovely boyfriend will still have to shoo me out the door because I’m cleaning after I said that I was going to work out. I only started to unlearn the belief of productivity tied to self-worth when that belief, along with other unhealthy coping mechanisms, fed into mental health issues that landed me in the hospital. It starts with believing that you’re worth taking care of, no matter what. Finding community is essential. I’ve found a new community through my gym, either through a hobby or a faith community. Online communities can be a good place to start, and Zoom meetings are also helpful. Think about what makes you happy or what has made you happy in the past, and take small steps back towards those things. It’s also essential to scale back working, even if it’s just an hour a week. Rest is not optional. It’s essential.