I Told Myself I Was Productive

Reclaiming My Rhythm: Day 18 of My Cycle

I used to fill every minute
with something that looked like purpose
another meeting, another errand,
another reason to keep moving
so I wouldn’t have to feel.

Silence made my skin itch.
Stillness felt like failure.
So I stacked my days with doing,
crammed my calendar with color
until even rest became another task
to check off before bed.

I told myself I was ambitious,
driven, disciplined,
but the truth was,
I was terrified
of what might surface
in the quiet.

Beneath the momentum
lived grief I hadn’t named,
longing I’d swallowed,
and questions
I didn’t want to answer.

Now, I’m learning
to let the minutes stretch
without rushing to fill them.
To sit in the ache
instead of running from it.
To trust that who I am
is still enough
even when I’m doing nothing at all.

San Francisco, May 2020.