The Panic of an Empty Calendar: Why Having “Nothing to Do” Gives Us Anxiety

Imagine you have a day with no plans—I know, I know. Just trying to imagine a day with no plans may be your first stumbling block. For many of us, a day with no plans in adulthood feels like a luxury—one that none of us can afford. So, to bypass that block, let's pretend you have a day with no plans.  

What will you do?

Even if we pretend to have an unscheduled day, this very scenario sends a shiver of uncertainty, a mini wave of panic even, down the spines of many Americans. What the heck am I going to do with an unplanned day uncomfortably stretching before me? After this thought, a fidgety, restless, anxious feeling follows as one tries to decide how to spend a day that isn't already crammed with obligations, chores, and entertainment. Many of us simply don't know what to do with ourselves when our schedule isn't overly committed and planned out, and not doing anything causes us to break out into hives. Our systems are so used to being on “GO!” that when we don't have to go, we don't know what to do. There is an overwhelming sense that we ought to be doing something with this precious, unplanned day. 

Oh, the overwhelm!

Now, aside from the anxiety, there is also a sense of pressure to use the day wisely—to not waste it, to get the most out of it. I feel tired just thinking about the mental gymnastics most of us go through when we actually have a moment to rest. 

Wayne Muller, author of one of my most cherished books on the subject of rest, Sabbath: Finding Rest, Renewal, and Delight in Our Busy Lives, captures this modern-day dilemma best: "Our ability to rest depends on what we find there," by which he means that if we experience anxiety the moment we have an opportunity to rest, we definitely won't rest. 

I recently read a piece in the New York Times by Melissa Kirsch about this very topic. The columnist shares her toiling experience of trying to rest and do nothing. Her description of this day where she finds herself with an unexpected empty calendar, which appears to be both a blessing and a curse, is comical and indicative of how our ideas of what it means to rest are all wrong. After a day that felt almost intolerable to her, she wrote, "I asked some colleagues if they'd ever successfully executed a totally intentional day of sloth without descending into self-loathing." 

Here is where our productivity-loving, workethic-obsessed culture has led us all astray. We struggle with resting because we come from a culture that has a long history of priding ourselves in our ability to work hard, be productive, and need little sleep, food, or, for that matter, water. Who has time to tend to our most basic needs when there are errands to run?! Laundry to fold! Floors to vacuum! Closets to clean! The more robotic we are in our ability to work prolifically and be perennially busy, the more we are viewed positively by our peers and ourselves. Being busy in our culture means we are "good enough" and "worthy." 

The choices we are left with are overwork—which we pursue thinking it will bring acceptance and praise, but actually leaves us exhausted—or doing nothing at all, which is not realistic and quickly leads us to feel anxious and depleted. There are two things to clear up here: we are all worthy of rest, which is essential to well-being and happiness, and we are not meant to do nothing in the literal sense.

We are creative beings who are often driven to spend time in solitude (not scrolling on phones, but in pursuits that enrich us), making things, and engaging in activities and hobbies that bring us joy. The framing of Kirsch's question to her colleagues reveals the socially constructed misconception of rest—that it is an entirely inactive, sloth-like state (read: resting is negative, bad, unworthy, and lazy). What science tells us about rest is that while napping and staring at clouds can feel restful, these completely inactive states are not the only forms of rest. Hardly any among us could nap or gaze at the sky all day.

I describe rest as ceasing from work or activity that taxes the resources of the body, mind, and spirit. And there are definitely ways to feel rested that don’t involve being a sloth.

Rest is not simply the absence of work. We can avoid professional work, but still spend our days running errands, cleaning, scrolling, and engaging in other activities that fill a weekend, but are not restful. Now we see the conundrum that the socially constructed idea of rest leaves us with: if trying to "do nothing" is not the point, and simply not working isn't enough to offer restoration, how then are we meant to rest?

In my work leading retreats on life balance and slowing down, I found Alex Soojung-Kim Pang's exploration of the topic profound. In his book, Rest: Why You Get More Done When You Work Less, Pang reports that we can experience restoration and relaxation through active rest.

 Light bulb moment! 

Rest is not always about doing nothing?! Active rest occurs when we engage in hobbies such as crafting, painting, building, working on cars, rock climbing, walking, cooking, and gardening. Interestingly, the key to getting both joy and rest out of these activities is doing them alone. Doing any of these things while chatting with a friend or a group of friends will fill our social bucket—which is fantastic and an essential part of a full and thriving life—but is unlikely to fill our “calm or peaceful” bucket. Science tells us that when engaged in a calming activity alone, our brains enter a state of flow. The concept of flow states is largely credited to the legendary psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi and his book, Flow: The Psychology of Optimal Experience. Csikszentmihalyi explores the state of flow, which can occur while fully immersed in a creative or solo activity where the mind is hyper-focused in the present moment and, miraculously, also tends to wander and daydream. Ample time in this flow state has the function of replenishing our reserves. 

If I had a chance to talk with Melissa Kirsch about her New York Times piece, I would say three things:

First, it’s not your fault that it is so hard to figure out what resting actually looks like; we've absorbed negative cultural beliefs about rest that are hard to overcome.

Second, practice riding the wave of anxiousness for the first least 20 minutes of a restful activity, which is usually just long enough to shift from feeling self-loathing to feeling pleasant during your unstructured day.

Third, it's not about doing nothing all day. It is about doing things, mostly alone, that bring you calm, joy, and peace. An unplanned day that results in a rested feeling is one that generally meanders from activity to activity. It might involve taking a walk, attending a yoga class, reading a magazine, puttering in the garden, working on a painting or drawing, detailing your car, tinkering in the kitchen, and yes, even lying in a hammock and counting clouds. Ultimately, the goal of your day with no plans is not to prove to yourself that you are resting through a total lack of activity and "slovenly lounging," but to gently meander through the restorative power of simply being with yourself, unburdened by obligation.

Enjoy the slow- Heather