What I learned from doing Nothing
When I started working freelance nearly two years ago, a friend gave me some good advice: Enjoy the slow times just as much as the busy times.
Over the past two years, I have found that sweet spot between work, free time, and both professional and personal travel. I enjoyed the busy weeks and long hours just as much as the free days in between—going on long bike rides or meeting friends for coffee. But toward the end of last year, some projects slowed down, and for the first time, I experienced several days with absolutely no work. That was completely new to me—my past ten years had been the exact opposite.
At first, I threw myself into outreach and meetings, but I quickly realized that was just a coping mechanism for this unfamiliar feeling. During that time, I started playing the piano and reestablished a few routines, which helped—but only masked the fears and insecurities I was experiencing. I noticed how my mood was affected, especially around money-related topics, which made me feel uncomfortable. I’m sure Nancy felt the tension at times, and I wasn’t always the best version of myself.
I took the opportunity to dig deeper. What exactly was making me so uncomfortable? There was a feeling of wasting time—my best years—and a lingering thought that I could be doing so much more. One day, I reflected on how much of my identity was tied to my previous job—and how common that is for many people. That reflection brought me back to a thought I’ve carried with me since my sabbatical two years ago: What are the things I could do versus what are the things I want to do? That thought made me realize that I’m on the right path and that I've made significant progress with the things I want to do. But there’s one thing I can’t control: timing. Even if someone believes in your talent, sees your value, and is inspired by your vision, it doesn’t always mean it’s the right time to work together. That realization gave me a sense of ease and reassured me that I’m on the right path.
For a while, I simply sat with the emotions I was feeling instead of fighting them. That shift in perception allowed me to use this time to get to know myself in a new way. I’ve always known myself as a busy person—someone who runs from one thing to the next, getting things done. But this chapter introduced me to a different version of myself, one that holds deep value for my personal growth. Looking back, I realize I shared my vulnerability with Nancy a little too late, missing the opportunity to let her support me more fully.
In moments like this, it’s often hard to stay calm and wait for the next wave to arrive. We tend to waste energy paddling too fast with no wave in sight. But if we can use these moments to observe our thoughts and prepare for what’s next, including embracing the slow times, we’re able to pay attention to opportunities, recognize them, and ride those waves. Of course, any wave will break one day—but when it does, I’ll stay calm, float on the water, and keep paddling slowly until the next one shows up.
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