Battling Busy-ness to Live Softer
Ingredients for the Grieving Heart
Across platforms and over time, I’ve shared my propensity to hustle, do, and busy myself both professionally and in my personal life. In the past, I’ve described myself as a do-er with a never-say-die tendency to grind … a lover of outcomes over process.
Let’s face it. We live in a culture that glorifies hustle, with being busy viewed as a badge of honor. In many situations, productivity often trumps presence, and I’m not only referring to the workplace, but also what we do in service to others outside of work. We fill our calendars, check off our to-do lists, and push our bodies and minds to the limit, sometimes without even realizing it.
I could ramble on and on about the ways society influences how we show up in the world. In addition, I could attribute my proclivity towards the ‘hustle mentality’ to upbringing, my personality, and a whole host of things … but that wouldn’t really matter, would it? No, the reality is that as a grown woman, I have to take responsibility for the ways busy-ness has positively … and negatively impacted my life.
Prior to experiencing significant personal loss, I’d lost touch with what was sacred – that is, the capacity to live softer, to move through life with tenderness, and to truly be with myself and others.
If you think about it, busy-ness and productivity encourage us to focus on things outside of ourselves – projects, tasks, endless activity, and outcomes. While not inherently harmful, this approach to living becomes dangerous when it disconnects us from our inner world. It can lull us into believing that constant doing is the measure of a meaningful life. But a full schedule doesn’t always equate to a full heart. In fact, unrelenting busy-ness can serve as a barrier to the very things we most long for – such as rest, connection, clarity, love, and transformation.
Softer living shifts our thoughts inward, affording space for us to reflect on what is good and necessary to nourish our spirit. It invites a different posture, one marked by intention, compassion, and a deep respect for this season … today … what’s happening in the present moment. Further, it enables us to choose a gentler way of engaging with our lives day-to-day … lives where tenderness isn’t perceived as a luxury, but a necessary expression of what it means to be human.
As someone who grieves, what an incredible gift!
Let me pause and share how easy it is for tenderness to become the first casualty throughout the grief process. Why? Because we’re addressing practical matters related to the loss, attempting to return to daily routines and work spaces, all the while striving to appear “normal.” It makes perfect sense that we’d move so quickly that we wouldn’t notice what’s stirring in our hearts or override our bodily signals to rest. Staying busy sometimes offers a temporary sense of control. Who wouldn’t focus on certainty in the midst of experiencing so many uncontrollable thoughts, feelings, and situations? And finally, when the pain that accompanies grief arises, as it inevitably does, busy-ness can become a convenient, though ultimately unsustainable, form of avoidance. Ouch!
This was the case for me following my mom’s death. Determined that grief wouldn’t ‘win,’ I chose busy-ness for years, focusing on career advancement and pursuit of personal goals.
What if I told you that over time, busy-ness may actually deepen the very wounds we’re trying to manage?
By the time I made the decision to lean into therapy and confront grief head-on, I felt overwhelmed not only with the grief, but also what I’d ignored physically, emotionally, and spiritually over the course of almost two years.
My friend, a life lived in constant motion has little room for reflection, softness, and compassion.
What I learned in therapy is that there’s a quiet, yet palpable, strength in choosing softness. It takes courage to pause, to let the heart be heard, and to deeply feel without rushing to fix or avoid grief altogether. Softer living asks us to slow down enough to see ourselves clearly, listen without judgment, and treat our inner lives with care. Not weak or sentimental, but compassionate and wise.
Living softer also allows us to extend that softness outward, deepening relationships with others and helping meet them with the empathy we too crave. Gradually, we also begin to notice the small, sacred moments that busy-ness often steals from us.
If you’re looking for a sign of sorts, here are three ingredients to help you live softer while you grieve.
Start with the body. Notice when you’re tense, tired, or disconnected. Make room to stretch, breathe, build in moments of stillness throughout the day, and rest without apology. This is a foundational, transformative practice throughout the grief journey and can help recalibrate your nervous system.
Name what matters. Reflect on what softness looks like for you … and what stands in the way of your pursuing it with intention. As you identify what matters to you, this might provoke you to make changes to your routine. That’s a good thing!
Choose quality over quantity. Whether it’s conversations, commitments, or care, remember that depth often offers more than breadth. With grief can come overwhelm, so take steps to intentionally engage with others and activities.
Busy-ness may have become a rhythm that feels too familiar to disrupt. Trust me, I get it. Culture tells us that constant striving will lead to feeling worthy. Those around us might applaud our performance, reframing it as “good grieving.” Yet in the midst of these narratives, it’s possible to choose something different … something softer.
Consider this a roadmap back to yourself … your sacred inner world.
Friend, living softer says: “I can be committed and compassionate.” “I can move with purpose and still choose rest.” “I can carry grief and still open my heart to beauty around me.” “I can reserve space for myself without guilt.”
Busy-ness may promise success or safety, but softness promises something far more lasting: a life that is deeply felt and fully lived.
And that kind of life? It’s worth slowing down for.
xo, Mekel
