Thank you for naming something I’ve lived for most of my life, but in a form that often went unseen—even by me.
Your words on urgency addiction struck a deep chord, and yet my version of it looked different from the outside. The urgency didn’t come from within—it wasn’t my voice I was hearing. It was the voices of others, especially my mother’s, woven into my nervous system like a second skin. I wasn’t driven by personal ambition or inner restlessness. I was complying with a lifetime of inherited expectations, carrying the weight of what others needed me to be.
And so, I didn’t look frantic. I looked composed. Unshakeable. People called me the epitome of resilience and calm—highly focused, flawlessly efficient. But what they were witnessing wasn’t peace. It was survival.
For years, I worked at a pace no one around me could match. I don’t say that with pride, but as testimony. I measured it. The time it took to fulfill a single order in our company—from selecting the product, choosing and assembling the carton, filling it, adding the invoice, sealing it, and applying the shipping label—averaged 55 to 61 seconds for my colleagues. For me? Twenty-eight. I moved twice as fast. Not because I wanted to win, but because I was always trying to buy time—squeeze in a few more seconds, a few more tasks, to keep up with a system that was never meant to be carried by one pair of hands.
But even the most efficient canyon eventually caves when the erosion is constant and no replenishment comes. In January 2024, I finally stepped down. And I fell. Not all at once, but for months. Nine, maybe more. It was like descending through layers of numbness, confusion, and grief, all the way down to a ground I’d forgotten existed.
I'm still arriving. Still brushing the dust from my edges. But something about your essay made me feel witnessed—like the canyon of my life wasn’t just an echo chamber, but a place where someone else has walked too.
Thank you for giving language to this. For seeing the harm beneath the competence. For reminding us that the body keeps score, and that rest is not failure—it’s a form of return.
Your response speaks to me deeply, especially the part about the voices that drove the urgency being from outside. The voices driving me were largely my mother’s as well, with support from society. People in t home town calmed my mother wonder woman for a she accomplished and she reveled in it. I followed in those footsteps, always reaching, always achieving, always feeling it was not enough.
I also resonate with the part about moving twice as fast. I never timed myself, but I used to view life as a game of Tetris - filling in any empty spots with another task. Queen of multitasking.
Yes, there is great harm to living this way and eventually the payment is due.
Wow, I love this! Thanks Linnea for this. I’ve experienced many of these symptoms myself—and still do, though less often now. Thankfully, I became aware of my addiction to constantly doing more and my discomfort with simply doing nothing. I’ve also recognized my tendency toward perfectionism and overdoing. Now, I’ve chosen to surrender to my imperfections. Yes, I’m still working on becoming better—but not from a place of urgency or scarcity, rather from already loving who I am! ✨✨
Oh Lina, I love the way you put it, “surrendering to my imperfections“. So beautiful. Thank you for spending time with this piece and hearing my intent so precisely. So many of us struggle with this addiction to urgency and busyness and are only now waking up to the harms it causes. Thank you for being awake!
Great piece, Linnea. I think I'm in recovery from this! And in times of stress (like our country devolving into a dictatorship), it's easy to get right back into those patterns. Thankfully, being out in nature is also a very important part of my life so I have the remedies built into my daily life as well.
Thank you Laura! I still struggle with this, which is probably why I write so many notes about the value of slowing down. Have you ever noticed that we tend to write what we most need to read? Especially in times of heightened stress.
Dear Linnea,
Thank you for naming something I’ve lived for most of my life, but in a form that often went unseen—even by me.
Your words on urgency addiction struck a deep chord, and yet my version of it looked different from the outside. The urgency didn’t come from within—it wasn’t my voice I was hearing. It was the voices of others, especially my mother’s, woven into my nervous system like a second skin. I wasn’t driven by personal ambition or inner restlessness. I was complying with a lifetime of inherited expectations, carrying the weight of what others needed me to be.
And so, I didn’t look frantic. I looked composed. Unshakeable. People called me the epitome of resilience and calm—highly focused, flawlessly efficient. But what they were witnessing wasn’t peace. It was survival.
For years, I worked at a pace no one around me could match. I don’t say that with pride, but as testimony. I measured it. The time it took to fulfill a single order in our company—from selecting the product, choosing and assembling the carton, filling it, adding the invoice, sealing it, and applying the shipping label—averaged 55 to 61 seconds for my colleagues. For me? Twenty-eight. I moved twice as fast. Not because I wanted to win, but because I was always trying to buy time—squeeze in a few more seconds, a few more tasks, to keep up with a system that was never meant to be carried by one pair of hands.
But even the most efficient canyon eventually caves when the erosion is constant and no replenishment comes. In January 2024, I finally stepped down. And I fell. Not all at once, but for months. Nine, maybe more. It was like descending through layers of numbness, confusion, and grief, all the way down to a ground I’d forgotten existed.
I'm still arriving. Still brushing the dust from my edges. But something about your essay made me feel witnessed—like the canyon of my life wasn’t just an echo chamber, but a place where someone else has walked too.
Thank you for giving language to this. For seeing the harm beneath the competence. For reminding us that the body keeps score, and that rest is not failure—it’s a form of return.
With deep resonance and gratitude,
Jay
Your response speaks to me deeply, especially the part about the voices that drove the urgency being from outside. The voices driving me were largely my mother’s as well, with support from society. People in t home town calmed my mother wonder woman for a she accomplished and she reveled in it. I followed in those footsteps, always reaching, always achieving, always feeling it was not enough.
I also resonate with the part about moving twice as fast. I never timed myself, but I used to view life as a game of Tetris - filling in any empty spots with another task. Queen of multitasking.
Yes, there is great harm to living this way and eventually the payment is due.
I see you and I appreciate you. 💜
Wow, I love this! Thanks Linnea for this. I’ve experienced many of these symptoms myself—and still do, though less often now. Thankfully, I became aware of my addiction to constantly doing more and my discomfort with simply doing nothing. I’ve also recognized my tendency toward perfectionism and overdoing. Now, I’ve chosen to surrender to my imperfections. Yes, I’m still working on becoming better—but not from a place of urgency or scarcity, rather from already loving who I am! ✨✨
Oh Lina, I love the way you put it, “surrendering to my imperfections“. So beautiful. Thank you for spending time with this piece and hearing my intent so precisely. So many of us struggle with this addiction to urgency and busyness and are only now waking up to the harms it causes. Thank you for being awake!
Great piece, Linnea. I think I'm in recovery from this! And in times of stress (like our country devolving into a dictatorship), it's easy to get right back into those patterns. Thankfully, being out in nature is also a very important part of my life so I have the remedies built into my daily life as well.
Thank you Laura! I still struggle with this, which is probably why I write so many notes about the value of slowing down. Have you ever noticed that we tend to write what we most need to read? Especially in times of heightened stress.
yes, absolutely.