Glorified busyness
I’m busy. I work five days a week, eight hours a day, sometimes nine, and get stuck in traffic for two hours on my way home. In the European Union, that’s considered 11 hours of work.
I attend graduate classes six hours a week. It would be perfectly manageable if attending classes is all I do in grad school. But I also read books, solve problems, do homework, and attend group studies.
I’m busy, but it’s not like I’m a doctor on 36 hours of straight work in an emergency room or a father who keeps two jobs to feed a family. The funny part here is: It’s self-inflicted busyness. I asked my manager to give me more projects with leadership roles. I applied for an advanced degree at 23. No one egged me to do any of these. I searched for a heavy rock and hit my head with it. Hard.
And I know I’m not the only one doing this. Many other young people seem to be perpetually busy and can’t afford to take a break. For us there’s always something to do, something to accomplish. Promotions and pay raises can’t come too soon. Titles and honors after our surnames can’t be enough. We’re in a hustle, and we don’t plan on stopping soon.
It’s an epidemic, this perpetual busyness. I know high school students who claim to be very busy. With what, I can only hazard a guess. I know undergrads who never get home early because of class work and “org” activities. It’s a disease that’s infecting ever younger people. I won’t be surprised to see a kid missing his own birthday party because of a school play.
I’ve heard “I’m busy” countless times from friends, family and colleagues, in various forms: “Sorry, have to rain-check on dinner today; overtime sa work.” “Can we postpone our meeting? Something came up.” “Happy birthday! Wish I can come, but I can’t.”
There’s an obsession with busy, and I can see why. The busier I got, the more important I felt. How cool to tell your friends that you can’t come to dinner because you have something lined up. How awesome to miss family gatherings because you’re out of town on business or working on a project. People find themselves crammed in a tiny spot on your calendar. Every rain-check boosts your ego. Each refused invitation is a step to becoming the world’s busiest person.
For a long time the busyness felt empowering and ego-inflating. Until it didn’t.
Not too long ago, I was on my way to a meeting with a client and was set for a very busy day at work and school. I was 10 minutes away from the meeting when I got a call from my aunt: My father had collapsed and was rushed to a hospital. My father, a widower, lives alone in our home in Bulacan. He had to call his sister to call an ambulance to collect him.
My aunt asked if I could come home because my father was on his own. An uncle was there but someone had to talk to the doctors and arrange for the hospital room. I told my aunt: “I have a meeting this morning, and I’m not sure I can come home.” In short, “I’m busy.”
My situation struck me. How busy can I be to not be with family when they need me? How important can I be that I can’t miss a single meeting? It was stupid of me to take long to decide, but I eventually called back and said: “I’m coming home.” I cancelled the meeting and made arrangements. It took some time, but I managed to be with my father, get him medical care, and take him home.
I stayed a day at the hospital and at home in the middle of a work- and school-week. To my surprise, the world did not stop moving when I did. Work and school were still there. Most importantly, my father is still here.
Months ago an online article on the regrets of the dying did the rounds in social media. It said most people on their deathbed wished they hadn’t worked too hard and had kept in touch with family and friends more often. How often do we hear people saying they wished they had one more conversation with a friend, one more day with their spouse, one more dinner with their mom?
It’s a shame we don’t realize early that life is too short to be busy.
Mark Anthony P. Pascual, 24, is a researcher studying applied statistics at the University of the Philippines Diliman.
