I’ve been having a lot of conversations lately with folks about how guilty they feel about “doing
nothing” during this time of quarantine. My clients talk in depth about how “lazy” or “useless”
they feel and how much shame they hold about feeling this way. Whenever I hear these types of
sentiments, I always ask a couple types of questions.
First, I ask where they first heard that they were those things (“lazy,” “useless,” etc.). Who first
presented those ideas, or insinuated that their worth was tied to accomplishing something? Who
benefits from these ideas, and from the shame that we hold around them? Whose voices and
perspectives are being privileged in that narrative, and what information is missing? Who are we
holding up as the ones that have it all figured out… and what privileges do they hold that assist
them?
Next, I like to ask clients to describe “What does doing nothing look like?” I might ask them “If I
was a fly on the wall, what would I notice?” This is because there is never a time that we are
doing nothing. Every activity has a purpose: the only difference is the value our society places on
its outcomes. I might inquire, when they are doing those things, what are they really doing and
prioritizing? Perhaps it is rest or sensory input. Perhaps it is a silent protest against all the unfair
things that are happening or how they’ve been treated. Maybe it is a way of silently honouring
these hard times, or intentionally choosing (on some level) to honour a need they’re having.
I want to know how they have managed to do this in a culture that punishes rest and worships
constant activity? Where does this reframed idea align with their values, and what they know
people deserve in this world (to rest, to care for oneself, to push for fair treatment)? How can
these actions in fact be celebrated?
When you’re “doing nothing,” you’re actually doing a lot.