Taking a Small Break from the System

Yesterday was a whirlwind of late-night research, early-morning chaos, and that all-too-familiar nagging feeling of “I should be doing more… but I’m already juggling so much.” I found myself going to bed later than planned, lost in a scroll through online writers, sketching out my job hunt for the week, and convincing myself that I’d have it all figured out by morning. Yet, morning came crashing in, of course, because kids have no regard for late-night ambitions.

So, I fell into the usual routine: ambient music on, kids up and about, lunch boxes packed, breakfast haggled over, dog walked, and a sprinkle of positive words tossed into the air like a mini spell to kick off the day. After dropping the kids off at school, I squeezed in a birthday coffee with friends, whipped up lunch, coordinated a playdate, and checked my emails, all while feeling the pressure of a thousand tasks waiting in the wings.

And then… I hit a wall.

That “I don’t want to work today” wall. Not from laziness, but because sending resumes into the void is downright draining. The rejections I receive start to morph into recycled excuses: overqualified, career gap, kids, too many degrees, not enough updates. It’s like the system can’t make up its mind, except that it definitely wants you to keep trying, to keep pushing through the frustration.

Sometimes, it feels as if we’re just products on a shelf, expected to fit into a system that doesn’t really care about people or their mental well-being. A system where you work to pay for living, and as you pay more, they create even more expenses for you to bear. It can feel like a never-ending cycle, where the goals set for achievement are just out of reach.

Amid all this, I remembered something simple: life didn’t feel like this when I was a kid.

I recall playing outside until sunset, running home covered in dirt, bickering with siblings, and then laughing it off just minutes later. Climbing trees to escape a grandparent’s scolding and feeling free in a way that seems rare now. Life was messy, loud, and beautifully unrefined. There were no deadlines, no societal pressures urging us to conform or compete. We lived in the moment, savoring the simple pleasures of childhood.

Adults had their issues back then, too, but the world didn’t feel so… plugged in. Everything now revolves around screens, notifications, schedules, and that relentless pressure to keep up. Parents come home just in time to say goodnight, not out of desire, but because the system leaves them no other choice.

It really makes you wonder what’s actually worth our time and effort.

We discuss AI, robots, and automation as though we’re training machines. But at times, it genuinely seems like we’re the ones being programmed. Routine, pressure, expectations, repeat: eat this, wear that, raise your kids this way, fit in here, and whatever you do, don’t fall behind. It’s a cycle that can feel suffocating, like we’re all running on a hamster wheel that never stops.

So here’s the real question I’ve been pondering today: What if we took a step back? What if we reevaluated what success means in this new landscape? What if we allowed ourselves the freedom to break free from the grind now and then? To embrace the chaos and messiness of life, much like we did as kids?

Finding a balance seems crucial, and it may take some effort to redefine what it means to thrive. Maybe it’s not about fitting neatly into a mold but rather about creating a life that resonates with our authentic selves, full of joy, laughter, and perhaps a little dirt here and there. After all, isn’t that what truly matters?

If you had the chance to tweak just one small thing in your daily routine, what would you choose? This isn’t about overhauling your entire life or making a grand gesture, just a simple change that brings a little spark back to your day. After all, maybe that’s how we can begin to take our lives back, one little intentional shift at a time. What’s holding you back from that tiny change?

I published my essay on What has transformed? And what exists now that could not have existed before this loss created space for it?

Read it here:

Still Here is a newsletter about identity, emotional intelligence, and the anthropology of becoming. Subscribe to receive each essay when it is published.

If you enjoy my work and would like to support it, you can chip in by buying me a coffee using the link below.