Chapter 1: The Roots of Productivity Anxiety

Growing up in a highly capitalist environment, every activity I engaged in had to be justified by its value. Questions like, "Why do you want to play soccer?" or "What’s the purpose of buying a game?" were common even at the age of eight. At that time, I struggled to provide satisfying answers.

This mentality instilled in me a habit of viewing each moment as an investment. When I wanted to watch television, I would question how much time I was willing to "spend." This approach became almost obsessive. It was challenging to enjoy activities when constantly calculating their value. At social gatherings, I often grew restless when the expected end time approached, leading me to make a discreet exit.

Eventually, I began setting rigid goals for myself, determining how many series or movies I would watch or how many books I would read, all in the name of maximizing productivity. However, I began to wonder: what does productivity mean in the context of leisure and enjoyment?

As a result, I found it difficult to connect with my immediate desires. If I had scheduled an hour to watch TV, I felt obligated to stick to that plan, regardless of my mood.

Then, I discovered books on meditation—not the spiritual or Buddhist types, but ones focused on the importance of slowing down. I learned that meditation can foster the growth of new neural pathways in the brain. My aim became to break free from being a slave to my emotions and to savor the present moment.

Until then, I had only truly appreciated moments while immersed in nature. Mindfulness in everyday activities seemed out of reach.

So, I decided to try Headspace. Its gradual introduction to meditation was beneficial, especially during the pandemic when my mind was racing with news and anxieties. I needed something to anchor me, and for a while, it worked.

However, as I began to embrace this newfound routine, I started increasing my meditation time from five to ten, then to twenty minutes or more daily. I rigidly assigned specific times for meditation, turning it into a chore. Missing a session made me feel guilty, diminishing the benefits I had initially experienced.

Eventually, I stopped altogether.

Fast forward two years, and I'm once again striving for mindfulness. I want to slow down, embrace life, and lessen the emphasis on my corporate job. That's when I came across Sam Harris and his Waking Up program. I engaged with the introductory course and adopted a manageable routine of ten minutes of meditation daily, allowing for the occasional skip without guilt. The focus is on starting anew, free from competition or pressure.

During a recent meditation, I encountered the idea: "Your life is your practice." This resonates deeply. It's not just about the ten minutes; it's about being present during meals, pausing to breathe when overwhelmed, dedicating time to watch a movie without distractions, or reading for pleasure rather than obligation.

Integrating these practices remains a challenge for me. Despite my ambitions—reading over sixty books this year, writing at least three times weekly, exercising four days a week, and meditating daily—I now recognize the importance of being flexible. I’ve learned to accept small failures, which allow for a fresh start. Daily streaks can be counterproductive for someone like me; while I can push through tasks with sheer will, this approach often leads to dissatisfaction and stagnation.

Embracing minor setbacks enables me to continue my journey. Skipping a day isn’t a failure; it’s simply a part of life. Today is a new opportunity to move forward.

My guidelines for meditation and goal setting are as follows:

• Choose a realistic and sustainable target, such as ten minutes each day.
• Ensure that the goal fits seamlessly into my daily schedule.
• If disruptions occur—like travel—adapt the goal to the new circumstances, while allowing for days when it may not be feasible.
• If I'm not feeling up to it, it's acceptable to skip a day, but do so consciously to maintain momentum the next day.

I’m committed to this journey every day. Sometimes I stumble, but that’s okay. I’ll rise and try again tomorrow.

Like my writing? Buy me a coffee and support my journey toward more creative expression!