Busy Isn’t Always a Choice: Expanding the Lens on Rest, Work, and Worth
After I shared a recent reflection on feeling “built for busy,” I got a loving, thoughtful message from one of my sisters—the kind of message that doesn’t just affirm, but expands. She reminded me that this topic isn’t just personal. It’s cultural. Historical. Global. Economic. Spiritual. And deeply tied to equity.
Her words stuck with me:
“Busy-ness is deep, individual, cultural, global, religious, and more. There are so many circles intersecting here.
What does rest really look like? And what about the people who can’t afford to rest?”
I’ve been sitting with that. Because the truth is, I can romanticize my own relationship to being busy. I often describe it as a superpower. And in many ways, for me, it is. But that narrative is shaped by privilege—by a life where “busy” often means doing work I love, and “rest” is something I have the ability to schedule in when I need it.
That is not a universal experience.
Around the world, and across our communities, rest is not always an option. Many people—particularly Black and brown communities, immigrants, and low-income workers—aren’t just busy. They’re overworked. Exhausted. Systemically excluded from the rhythms of rest that I can sometimes take for granted.
Consider this:
Nearly 8 million U.S. workers hold more than one job. Most of them do it because their primary income doesn’t cover basic expenses.
Black women are disproportionately likely to experience job insecurity and workplace stress, while also being least likely to have access to paid leave or flexible schedules.
And globally, cultures shaped by colonialism and capitalism continue to perpetuate the idea that rest must be earned through relentless productivity—often at the cost of mental, emotional, and physical health.
This isn’t just about overwork. It’s about a system that equates human worth with output. That rewards some of us for our “busyness” while punishing others for not being able to opt out of it.
My sister’s challenge was simple, but powerful: Don’t stop at your own story. Pan out. Look around.
What does balance look like when you’re holding two or three jobs, supporting a family, navigating racism, or living in a country where rest is treated like a luxury instead of a right?
What does rest look like in a culture that tells you your worth is tied to what you produce?
These are questions I don’t have tidy answers to. But I know I need to hold them. Not just in thought, but in action.
It means examining where my own rest is made possible by unearned ease. It means staying aware of the systems that allow me to “step back” while others don’t have that option. And it means listening—especially to those whose labor and exhaustion are too often invisible.
I still believe I’m built for busy. That hasn’t changed. But I’m learning not to treat that phrase like a badge of honor. Not when so many people are busy just trying to survive.
I’m grateful for the ongoing conversation. I’ll keep showing up for this challenge, with more humility and a wider lens. I hope you will, too.
Thank you Lisa, I’m always learning.
