I Know You’re Busy, But… The Hidden Cost of Our Busyness Addiction

vasallophoto
Sep 20
3 min read

“I know you’re busy, but…”

The phrase landed like a jab. A colleague said it casually last year before asking me a simple question. Yet it stopped me in my tracks. Is that really the identity I’ve created? The “busy one”? The person who never has time?

The truth is, they weren’t wrong. For years, I was running on overdrive. My calendar was packed with work I loved, but also the endless extras that come with parenting without family nearby — school drop-offs, pick-ups, playdates, carpools. It felt like there was always one more thing.

And then, just when life was already full, we decided to move across the world to Bali — a place we had never even visited. The logistics of an international move were overwhelming enough. But we also chose to prepare our Santa Fe home to be rented out for the first time. And, as if that weren’t plenty, we layered on remodeling projects too. Looking back, I have to ask: were we simply addicted to busyness? Adding extra weight to an already heavy season because it felt familiar, even when it wasn’t necessary?

But here’s what I’ve discovered: sometimes busyness isn’t noble. Sometimes it’s an addiction.

The Bali Wake-Up Call

When we arrived in Bali, the island delivered me a mirror I wasn’t expecting. The culture here moves at a completely different rhythm. Tasks that would take five minutes in the U.S. can stretch into an hour here — and no one seems rattled.

Just last week, I returned a couple of items at a hardware store. Simple, right? Except one return had to be processed on the second floor, another on the third, and a third at a store-within-the-store. Each cashier seemed perplexed, calling managers, consulting coworkers. The whole ordeal took nearly an hour.

At first, I felt the old irritation rise up. My brain started calculating how I could filled in that time. But instead of fuming, I surprised myself: I walked away. I wandered the mall. I let them figure it out. When I came back later, the return was done. Life went on.

That experience — along with dozens of smaller moments — has been teaching me to pause. To loosen my grip on the stopwatch. To remember that life isn’t meant to be lived at maximum velocity.

And just the other day, I noticed a snail making its slow journey across the wooden deck outside our home. Its unhurried pace, and the delicate trail it left behind was a message for me. Slowing down didn’t mean the snail wasn’t moving forward. It simply meant it was moving with intention. What a simple, beautiful reminder that progress doesn’t always have to look like speed.

Lessons From Slowing Down

Busyness is not the same as importance. Somewhere along the way, we equated “busy” with “worthy.” But the truth is, people feel more valued when we’re present, not when we’re juggling ten things at once.
Different cultures carry different clocks. Growing up in Spain, I remember long vacations and lingering meals. Yes, sometimes it feels like the pace there is changing, but there’s still more breathing room than in the U.S., where every minute is filled with efficiency and productivity. And in Bali, the clock seems to bend even further. Waiting isn’t seen as wasted time — it’s simply part of the flow.
Doing less can actually bring you more. Since arriving here, I’ve noticed something: when I resist the urge to fill every gap with work, calls, or errands, space opens up. In that space, I connect more deeply with myself, with my husband, and with my daughter. I hear myself think. I notice the lush green all around me. And paradoxically, I feel more creative and energized in my work.

Redefining Identity

That colleague’s words still echo in me: “I know you’re busy, but…” I don’t want to be remembered as the perpetually occupied person. I want to be the woman who makes time. Who listens. Who creates. Who is both energetic and present.

I’ve started asking myself: Who am I when I’m not doing? Who am I when I’m just being?

The truth is, our culture rarely praises being. We reward productivity, hustle, efficiency. But what about presence? What about joy? What about savoring life?

Here in Bali, I’m learning that slowing down isn’t laziness. It’s an act of trust. It’s a declaration that my worth is not measured in output. That life itself — in all its messy, delayed, roundabout ways — is enough.

And so I wonder: If you stopped wearing busyness as a badge of honor, what would you make space for?

To your success and abundance!

Tania

Ps:This is the first in a three-part reflection on pace and presence. Next week, I’ll be sharing why silence feels so uncomfortable — and what it can teach us when we stop running.