To do:less

Is it really that there’s something intrinsically satisfying in crossing items off to-do lists? Or is it just a sense of relief that I’ve finally done the thing? That there’s proof of a utilitarian offering; of met with socio-cultural norms of busyness to justify time spent?

Maybe it’s an act of embracing middle-age (the Xennial in me would like to think I have not aged past 30, but let’s not kid ourselves), but I find myself more often pondering over little details of life. Not so recently, I was challenged with the idea of doing less in my own life … to let go of comparing my own to-do lists, to that of other people who are not chronically ill and disabled. The problem is, because my disability isn’t immediately visible, playing this card requires me to perform what I like to call the “charity model” justification. And I honestly don’t have the fucking energy.

Once again, my writing has veered from the course I intended. What I wanted to ponder is whether the need to do less is also attached to the growing need for mindfulness, to take time to pause, to breathe, to interact face to face instead of on a screen. This isn’t about blame, rather a self-directed introspective journey. Is the guilt I feel in doing less attached to performative expectations in being near-constantly connected? Is it ableism/internalized ableism I haven’t yet worked through? A bit of both?