Confessions from a recovering achiever who thought rest was for quitters
I was stirring spaghetti with one hand and answering emails with the other when it hit me.
Not inspiration. Not a brilliant business idea.
The sobering realization that I had become a productivity machine.
There I was, literally multitasking dinner while firing off “quick” responses to clients, mentally rehearsing tomorrow’s presentation, and calculating whether I could squeeze in one more project before the kids’ bedtime.
My phone buzzed. Another email. I reached for it instinctively, sauce-covered spoon still in my other hand.
That’s when my ten-year-old looked up from her homework and asked the question that stopped me cold:
“Mom, when do you ever just… stop?”
The Moment Everything Shifted
I opened my mouth to give her the standard response. “Oh honey, Mommy’s just really busy right now. Things will slow down after this project.”
But the words stuck in my throat.
Because I realized I’d been saying “things will slow down” for three years.
When exactly was I planning to stop? When was enough going to be enough?
Standing there in my kitchen, sauce dripping from a wooden spoon, I had the most terrifying thought: What if I don’t actually know how to stop?
The Lies I Told Myself
Here’s what’s embarrassing to admit: I was proud of my productivity addiction.
I wore my color-coded calendar like a badge of honor. I bragged about answering emails at 5 AM and scheduling calls during carpool. I genuinely believed that my worth was directly tied to my output.
Rest was for people who weren’t ambitious enough. Downtime was for quitters.
I had convinced myself that taking a break meant I wasn’t committed. That stepping away from work meant I wasn’t grateful for the opportunities. That slowing down meant falling behind.
But here’s the truth I was avoiding: I wasn’t actually more productive. I was just more frantic.
My creativity was suffering. My relationships were becoming transactional. My kids were getting the exhausted version of me, not the present one.
I was succeeding at everything except the things that actually mattered.
The Beautiful Disaster
Fast forward a few months. Michael had just returned from Israel, eyes sparkling with stories about families who gathered every Friday evening for something called Sabbath.
“I want to bring this home,” he announced. “I want our family to experience this.”
My first thought? Great. Another thing to add to our already packed schedule.
But something in his voice made me pause. This wasn’t Michael’s usual “let’s optimize our family systems” enthusiasm. This was different. Deeper.
So we tried it.
And it was a spectacular failure.
Our first Sabbath looked like a Pinterest disaster. Candle wax everywhere. Kids asking “How much longer?” every five minutes. The carefully prepared meal turning cold while we fumbled through unfamiliar blessings.
I wanted to quit. To file this under “nice idea, wrong family.”
But then our daughter did something that changed everything.
The Gift I Almost Threw Away
The next Friday, before I could suggest we skip the whole thing, she appeared in the kitchen doorway.
“Mom, can I help set the table for Sabbath tonight? I want to put out the special cups.”
The special cups. In one week, she had designated our regular drinking glasses as “special” because we used them during our beautiful disaster of a Sabbath dinner.
That’s when I realized what was happening. While I was focused on getting it “right,” she was experiencing something I had forgotten existed: unhurried time with the people she loved most.
No agenda. No schedule. No productivity metrics.
Just presence.
What I Discovered in the Pause
It took weeks of “failing” at Sabbath before I started to understand what we were actually doing.
We weren’t adding another item to our to-do list. We were creating space for what our souls had been craving all along.
Connection without agenda. Rest without guilt. Time that wasn’t measured by output.
Slowly, I began to recognize the warning signs I’d been ignoring. The way my shoulders tensed when I heard my phone buzz. The fact that I couldn’t sit through a movie without reaching for my laptop. The constant feeling that I was falling behind, even when I was ahead.
I had been living like a phone perpetually at 10% battery, always in crisis mode, never fully charged.
The Recovering Achiever
I wish I could tell you that I was instantly cured of my productivity addiction. That one magical Sabbath dinner transformed me into a zen master of work-life balance.
But recovery is messier than that.
There are still weeks when I resist the pause. When everything in me wants to use Friday evening to “catch up” on the week. When slowing down feels like giving up.
But here’s what I’ve learned: The resistance I feel toward rest is exactly why I need it most.
That voice that says “I don’t have time to stop” is the same voice that convinced me my worth depended on my output. The anxiety that rises when I put my phone away is proof of how desperately I need to put it down.
Your Turn to Pause
Maybe you’re stirring your own metaphorical spaghetti right now. Answering emails while reading this. Mentally calculating how much you need to get done tonight.
What would happen if you just… stopped?
Not forever. Not dramatically. Just for one evening.
What if you gave yourself permission to be a human being instead of a human doing?
This Friday, try something radical. Light a candle. Put your phone in another room. Look at the people you love and really see them.
Because here’s what I discovered in the pause: You are enough. Not because of what you’ve accomplished, but because you’re loved. Not because of what you produce, but because of who you are.
The rest you’ve been chasing through achievement? It’s been waiting for you in the pause all along.
Ready to break your own productivity addiction? Take the Pressing Pause Challenge this week.
Want to understand the biblical foundation for why rest isn’t weakness? Read The Missing Commandment.
Discover how this simple practice can transform your entire family: Get Pressing Pause available on Amazon.
Michael and Selah Hirsch are the founders of Start Sabbath, helping leaders, achievers, and families around the world discover the gift of sacred rest.
Get in touch!
