Stepping Away

There have been times in my career when I felt completely drained. The list of things to do seemed endless, but the greater exhaustion came from how much of myself I placed into the work.

Creating is personal. When you put your heart and soul into something, it can be difficult to maintain any distance from it. I can disappear into an idea for hours, driven by ambition and the desire to make every detail exactly right. For a long time, I believed that commitment meant continuing until the work was finished.

Then I read a book about concentration. I am not much of a reader—after a chapter, my mind usually begins to wander—but one thought stayed with me: we can only give our full attention to something for so long. At some point, continuing no longer makes the work better.

I do not set a timer when I am creating. Instead, I have learned to notice when my body asks for water, when my thoughts begin to drift, or when I find myself circling the same idea without moving it forward. That is when I stand up, walk around the block with the dogs, or simply interrupt the cycle.

The book suggested moving to an entirely different task before returning. I am not quite there yet. But I have learned that stepping away is not abandoning the work. It is giving both the work and myself a little room to breathe.

When I return, I see more clearly. The problem feels smaller, the possibilities feel wider, and something that deserves a second look receives one.

Sometimes slowing down is how we make our most meaningful progress.