I Wanted a Slower Life. So Why Do I Feel Like I'm Missing Out?
Lately, when I browse through Substack to see what interesting things others are writing about, I notice I'm increasingly drawn to posts about slow living, digital detoxes, and finding ways to create work and a life outside the usual 9-to-5, hustle, push, achieve, repeat cycle.
I've been reading some really good ones lately, and reading the comments has gotten me thinking, too.
Last year, I left my job and took nine months off because I was burned out. And since then, I've found myself in a strange place. On one hand, my body has relaxed a little, I've slowed down considerably. I've started accepting that I simply cannot live and work the way I used to, and I don't want to, either. I want this slower life.
But at the same time, I've been wrestling with low confidence, low self-worth, and this nagging feeling that everyone around me is leveling up, growing, moving forward, and I'm just... here. Left behind. Sometimes I feel like I've even taken a few steps backward.
I don't know if this is all part of it. Maybe I'm in some kind of transition phase where I no longer want to do things the old way, but haven't quite figured out how to be and do things the new way. Some days I think I've made progress. Other days I think I've just been wasting away.
And time is ticking. I've become so aware of the signs of aging on my face and body lately. Sometimes I'm genuinely scared that before I know it, I'll be an old lady, alone and poor, barely getting by. Which, to be honest, is a very real possibility, not some completely irrational fear. And that's precisely why it scares me.
So here I am, wanting to slow down, but also terrified of falling behind.
The Strange Shame of Living a Quiet Life
A few days ago, I came across an article on Substack called Do You Really Want a “Slow Life?” by Katie Lowe, who writes RAYON.
She'd been living without a smartphone for almost two years and was describing what her ordinary days looked like. She described finishing work, wandering around the house, staring into the distance, pulling weeds in the garden, calling a friend, making dinner, reading books, spending evenings with her partner. Sometimes she'd go out and meet someone. Sometimes she'd write for hours. Sometimes she'd do very little.
And reading it was strangely therapeutic. Therapeutic because her days were actually quite normal. Not much was going on apart from work, her little routines, and spending time at home with her partner. And I found that comforting.
My days are very normal too, but it’s like I'm incredibly embarrassed about it. So much so that I don't really want anyone to know that I don't do much more than work, go to the gym, spend time in nature, prepare meals, and occasionally see family and friends.
It feels like everyone around me is living much more interesting lives. Going out, having hobbies, dating, hanging out with friends, attending cultural events, taking self-development workshops, learning new things, etc. And I've just been here, living a very slow life and being very boring.
When someone asks how I've been, I usually just say, "Oh, you know, work, gym, same same." If someone filmed a day in my life, it would make for a very boring reality show 🤓.
I've chosen this slower life on purpose for the past year. I needed it. I still do. But at the same time, I feel embarrassed about it. Like I've stepped out of the life arena, or out of the boxing ring, out of the game, while everyone around me is still very much in it, having a great time.
It’s like I’m no longer living according to the old rules, but I’m still judging myself by them. I’ve escaped the hustle, but I haven't escaped its measuring stick.
But Are We Supposed to Live This Slowly?
Then I started reading the comments on that article, and there was an interesting debate about this exact same thing.
Someone shared that they'd tried slow living for a couple of years and ended up feeling bored and listless. Eventually, they started working part-time at their local library, getting more involved in their community, hosting dinner parties, volunteering, and filling their calendar with projects and activities. And they became so much happier!
They questioned whether the whole slow living movement had become an overcorrection to hustle culture. Whether, in trying to escape one extreme, we'd gone too far in the opposite direction.
And I thought, yes, I've been wondering the same.
I think most of us realize by now that this super fast-paced, constant, nonstop way of living isn't good for us. It's a bit much for our nervous systems, our brains, and our capacity to process everything. Constantly doing, achieving, consuming, responding. It's too much.
So yes, I believe slowing down, allowing ourselves to experience boredom sometimes, spending time alone with our thoughts, and giving our brains and bodies space to process and recover are important and necessary.
But can we take that too far, too?
Are we really supposed to spend hours staring into nothingness, alone with our thoughts, in isolation and boredom? Because I don't think that's what I want, either.
It's like we've spent so long living at this crazy pace that now we're countering it by going to the other extreme. Going real slow. But I'm wondering whether that might not be so good for us in the long run, either.
I think what we're looking for is somewhere in the middle again. You know, that so-overused-I'm-sick-of-hearing-it word, balance.
Have I Gotten a Little Too Comfortable?
I've been living slowly for about a year now, pretty much out of the game, and I'm noticing that I'm starting to feel restless in that, too.
I want to grow, create, build something. To achieve some things, sometimes, to feel proud of myself and have that sense of accomplishment. I want to meet people, have interesting conversations, learn new things, experience things.
I want to feel like I'm participating in life again.
This is what I've been finding uncomfortable to admit, because there's a difference between choosing a quiet life and hiding from life. And I think I've been doing a bit of both 🙄.
I love being at home. I love my little routines, having time to myself, not having to rush anywhere, being able to spend a quiet morning working or go for a walk in nature. But I've also noticed how often I choose to stay in rather than go out and socialize, simply because it's easier and more comfortable.
But am I actually choosing what I enjoy, or am I just choosing what's comfortable? Am I honoring my need for rest, or am I avoiding things?
I needed to withdraw for a while and recover, sure. But I might have stayed withdrawn for longer than I needed to. I feel a little like a flower that's wilted, like some of the life and color have gone out of me. I miss feeling excited about things. I miss feeling alive.
I don't want to go back to the old way of living. Absolutely not. But I don't want to spend the rest of my life hiding in my cozy little cave, either.
I Think I Want a Different Rhythm
I believe we came here to participate in this life. Not sit in silence, alone with our thoughts, the whole time. But not live externally, hustling and running around the whole time either.
But still, life is an interactive experience, not a passive one.
And the more I think about it, the more I realize I don't actually want to live slowly all the time. I want both.
Sometimes sprint, then rest. Sometimes go crazy with a crowd, then retreat into solitude and quiet. Sometimes the barefoot, salty-haired, nature-loving wild woman, sometimes the fierce, glammed-up, heels-wearing badass. Sometimes wild and adventurous, sometimes a quiet, cozy homebody. Sometimes out in the world, exploring, playing, getting into all kinds of adventures. Sometimes tucked away in my cozy little home, doing absolutely nothing. Sometimes love, give, nurture, care. Sometimes let go of it all and come back home to myself.
I dream of having my own cozy little beautiful home where I'd spend most of my days. Working on things I love, cooking, taking care of myself, spending time outside, having people over occasionally. Just living my ordinary little life.
And then, every now and then, going off on some crazy adventure. Traveling somewhere new, meeting new people, making new friends, learning things, doing things I've never done before. Being out in the world, experiencing all the colors and craziness of it.
Then coming home again to recover and rest. Until I feel like going out again for more crazy, colorful, beautiful living. Then back home again.
Something like that. That sounds like a pretty wonderful life to me.
I don't want to go back to the hustle, but I don't want to wilt away in the quiet, either. I just want to feel alive again.
I'm just not quite sure how to get there yet…
♡