Busy Is as Busy Does

For the longest time, “seasons” referred to things like the time of year, sports, and taxes. I’m not sure when we started using the word to describe stretches of life, too—but it fits. Losing a loved one: grief. Newly divorced: adjustment and transition. Starting a new health regimen: transformation. Name me a life experience, and I can probably assign it a therapeutic process.

Lately, though, I’ve been thinking about busyness. It’s something we can all relate to—so much so that it’s become less a temporary state and more a way of being.

I hear it in the following ways:

“Between work and my kids’ sports activities, I can barely find time to eat.”
“I forgot what it feels like to take a breath.”
“I’d like to spend more time with friends, but I’m too tired to do anything.”
“I wish I could read more, but I don’t have the bandwidth.”
“I can’t focus because I’m juggling so much.”

As much as mental health has become more of a part of the conversation, I don’t think we’re paying enough attention to how the constant rush of being busy is compromising our well-being. Ironic, yes—but more concerning than ironic.

There are so many competing demands on our time and attention: holiday-themed items taking over grocery aisles months in advance; keeping up with kids’ extracurricular activities while trying to work and maayyybe grabbing a decently nourishing meal in between; winding down from the day while doomscrolling and simultaneously wondering if you’ll have time to make that viral dumpling recipe for dinner tomorrow night.

The list of pushes and pulls on our time and attention never ends. In my experience, we’ve become so accustomed to being busy that we rarely stop to question what this pace is costing us—until we’re forced to. Overextension starts to manifest as impatience, resentment, double-booking, forgetting to send that text, a migraine, or sleepless nights. There isn’t a special brand of busyness that makes our bodies, relationships, or circumstances immune to its consequences.

So how uncomfortable do we have to become before the race to keep up becomes more uncomfortable than slowing down? And who—or what—gets to decide when we’ve reached that point?

Be careful of getting too chummy with the Devil you know. He’ll beat you if he’s able.

Samantha LaffoonSeptember 29, 2026

“Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.”

Lovely sentiment, but my body begs to differ. I’ve rolled into a new chronological year with my first injury requiring physical therapy. Turns out, it doesn’t matter if your theme song is Taylor Swift’s “22”—your body doesn’t lie. Thankfully, my issue is more inconvenient than catastrophic. Like many healing processes, the road to recovery is fairly straightforward: ask for help, follow the plan, and be patient. I struggle with the latter.

As a therapist, I’m often encouraging clients to stay the course, trust the process, and remember that healing rarely happens on their timeline. I’m able to say it with conviction because I genuinely believe it’s true - I’ve experienced it as a client myself and I see it play out on the other side of the couch as a clinician. Being a PT patient has reminded me how daunting it is to commit to a process you haven’t experienced long enough to trust. That's true whether you're healing your body or your heart.

Talk Therapy Physical Therapy
“Why would I want to talk about my feelings?” “Why would breathing help my hip?”

“Talking to a stranger is weird.” “You’re telling me this tiny movement is the exercise?”

“How is crying considered a breakthrough?” “How can something this gentle make any difference?”

“I don’t think this is working.” “I don’t think this is working.”

I’ve had plenty of internal conversations sounding something like “If I have to do one more round of breathing into my lower abdomen, I’m going to lose my mind”. It seems unfathomable that micro movements in PT and micro shifts in talk therapy could produce macro-level change. Yet, both processes begin with gentle, intentional steps and all any of us seeking help want to do is get to the finish line. We resist the process, dismiss it as too simple to work, convince ourselves we're somehow the exception, and eventually wonder if it's worth continuing at all.

Sound familiar?

I hear you. And right now, I’m with you. However, in the last few days, something shifted. I’ve had the least amount of discomfort for the longest stretch of time that I’ve had in months. So, I'll keep doing the stretches—still a little skeptical, but humble enough to admit I don't know everything. As much as it surprises me, I do feel a little better. I once heard someone say that change happens slowly and then all at once. We don’t always feel change happening in the moment, but neither do we see a seed become a flower. I’m staying the course. I hope you will, too.

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Busy Is as Busy Does

Licensed Professional Clinical Counselor in Ohio, Kentucky, and Texas