addicted to busy.
Addictions take many forms. Alcohol, smoking, drugs, sex, shopping, porn. My addiction is perhaps more insidious and yet, totally socially acceptable. I am addicted to being busy. I use being busy and productivity as the material I need to plug the hole in my heart caused by a massive, gaping competency wound.
I am not going to explore how I got that wound … because I already know. I want to look at how this addiction puts a filter on my life and I don’t even realize it. For example, I will completely over-commit and almost kill myself to make something happen in order to attract attention or admiration. I have a hard time saying NO because I don’t want anyone to think I am lazy. I need to hear others say “Wow, you are amazing. How can you do all this ???” because deep down, I don’t believe it myself. But then, in probably the biggest mind game of all, I routinely deflect the praise or admiration of others and say “Do what? Oh, all this? It’s nothing … ” despite having just nearly killed myself to not fail or disappoint.
I guess you could say that I get high on delivering the impossible and the busy, busy, never resting activity that it takes to do it. I medicate with constant motion. I am a blur moving past my children to pick up around them as they chill on the couch and enjoy life. If I do sit down it’s with a device in my hand and I keep working. I pack my days to the brim and at the end of the day feel that I haven’t gotten nearly enough done.
Of course I don’t feel like I do enough. I am doing IT ALL for the wrong reasons.
Alcohol never quenches the real thirst. Sex without love and commitment never touches the soul. Likewise, my addiction to being busy will never ever “plug my holes” and make me whole.
-Frances Banks