Lately, I’ve been exploring the idea of anti-productivity.¹

I started by interviewing the most prolific humans I know, hoping for stories of those moments where the drive to produce has taken on cartoonish proportions. In the midst of this research, I began prepping to leave for a 16-day trip. The day before departure, I made a To-Do list of what I felt was a reasonable amount of action items to get done before I left.

The list included 29 tasks. Packing was implied, so make that 30.

It’s not that I believe I can actually do 30 things in a day; it just so happened that there were a total of 30 items that seemed equally important to do the day before leaving town. In hindsight, I understand that nothing is more important the day before leaving town than organizing your life so that you can leave town. It’s not the time to paint the spare bedroom. Not that I did anything that preposterous.

I just included putting up Easter decorations and making herbal medicines on the list alongside truly critical tasks like sending invoices and uploading the latest workshop to YouTube. I honestly believed cold plunging and applying a glass-skin face mask were within reach. If I managed my time properly, I told myself, I’d finally get around to peeling and eating that pomegranate.

That’s not a joke. It was on the list.

It occurred to me, then, that I didn’t need someone else’s batshit crazy story to illustrate how bad things have gotten—how truly unmanageable our expectations of self are compared to our real human limits. In fact, up until very recently, I would’ve been disappointed in myself to the point of disgust for not accomplishing these bafflingly irrelevant To-Do list Hail Marys.

And that is the story of how I came to understand that I’m a case study for life-hacking gone wrong.

How Did We Get Here?

Since the Industrial Revolution, we’ve effectively been brainwashed to chase efficiency. The indoctrination has turned us into obedient little worker bees clamoring after money like it’s the elixir of life so we can buy more crap to make us feel a little less inadequate.

Look, I’m all for seizing the day. I hope to make the most of this wild and precious life and spend a lot of time hoping I’ll reincarnate and get in a few more rounds. After all, I still haven’t gone to Burning Man, and definitely feel too set in my ways about the feeling of dust on my skin to do it in this lifetime. [shivers in disgust]

The problem is that this quest for living optimally has sucked the joy out of living. Even in the two years since my burnout-induced nervous breakdown, when I’ve learned to “chase joy” and “practice self-acceptance” and all that other fluffy stuff, I’d still watch the sun go down every day with a sense of despair.

How many more items could I cross off the list before I face-planted in bed? Was it 16? Surely, I could get at least 16 more things done between yoga and the last of my 10,000 steps and making a scratch dinner because I don’t have room in my freezer for convenience foods.

Invariably, I would only get half of one thing done before zombie shuffling into bed feeling like the world’s biggest loser. (But I love myself! I have a daily gratitude practice dedicated to finding small joys that make up for my glaring inadequacies! Everything’s FINE).

Do Crazy Words Fall Out of Your Mouth, Too?

My best friend regularly sends me messages detailing her angst at how she didn’t get any work done all weekend. Let’s unpack this.

First of all, it’s the weekend.

Second of all, she will have just wrapped two physically exhausting musical performances in different parts of the state and done a brand photoshoot that morning.

😳😳😳

Can you see why we’re friends? We big ol’ lazy failures gotta stick together!

Of course, I’m phenomenal when it comes to telling her how she regularly tries to do the work of twelve humans, so she must remember that only doing the work of two humans is NOT failing. I’m a virtuoso at reminding her to take the afternoon off to do something fun or, hell, just take a nap—because she deserves it.

Now, if only I could take the advice I’m so brilliant at dishing.

It’s not just the two of us locked into this thinking, either. The high-achievers I interviewed expressed feelings of guilt, anxiety, disappointment, frustration and overwhelm for reaching the end of their day and not accomplishing more. One creator left me a message lamenting that she’d missed her (self-imposed) deadline because she and her kids were out with the stomach flu. Her voice said it all: She wasn’t cutting herself slack because life happened. She had let herself down.

It got me thinking about what would happen if we burned it all to the ground. The productivity systems ostensibly designed to help us squeeze more fulfillment out of life are failing if they leave us with a sense of not-enoughness. Low-grade self-reproach is not my definition of a life well lived.

So, how do we fight the capitalist groupthink?

While none of us can single-handedly overthrow a society dedicated to limitless productivity, we can stop believing the lie that running the hamster wheel will ever bring fulfillment. We can choose joy and pleasure over achievement. We can measure success by the portion of our day we spend in flow rather than time spent chasing a moving target.

Inspired by this, I drafted a manifesto for all the ambitious souls who might need to reimagine their approach to getting things done. Here it is.

The Anti-Productivity Manifesto

I reject the lie that my worth is tied to how much I accomplish.

I deny the notion that there’s more I need to be doing in order to justify my existence.

I disavow the overwhelming To-Do list I once paraded as a badge of honor—believing ambition bought me a seat at the table.

That inner voice that insists I must do it all? It’s wrong.

I rebel against society’s demand that I must constantly make the most prudent use of my time if I want to thrive.

I refuse to “optimize” my downtime.

I commit to truly being at rest rather than covertly engaged in self-improvement.

Leisure is not a means to an end; it’s the end worth striving for.

I abandon the delusion that with the right hacks and a bit more effort, I can outrun unending demands, fulfill every ambition and ascend to some pinnacle of flawless Boss Babe success.

I accept that there are balls to drop, people to disappoint and fires that must be left to smolder.

I embrace the truth that when I pour myself into one thing, everything else must settle for “good enough.”

This is freedom.

I choose to embrace the slow, thoughtful path of artistry over the frantic scramble of achievement.

I grant my most important work the time it demands—without shame, guilt or apology.

I strive only for the sacred flow state, where time is meaningless anyway.

Inspiration has never arrived in a flurry of busyness.

I devote myself to experiencing the vividness of reality—to giving this moment, right now, the exquisite attention it deserves.

I refuse to believe that doing more, faster, will ever bring me peace.

I declare unequivocally that I am already enough.

In a world that glorifies striving, accomplishing and speed, this is my resistance.

Are you ever hard on yourself for not getting more done?

Did you expect to hit certain milestones in your life by now, and does not having done so make you feel a certain kinda way?

Please share your stories. It helps others feel less alone, and hell, it just might inspire a revolution.

This post was originally published on Substack.

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