What Are You Avoiding by Staying Busy?

Most of the leaders I work with aren't stuck because they lack strategy. They're stuck because busyness has become what keeps them from noticing what's actually driving their decisions — and it doesn't feel like avoidance. It feels

like responsibility.

I know, because I was doing it too.

Every morning I get up early, make an espresso, and sit down before my workout. For a long time, that also meant picking up my phone the second I sat down. Scrolling through emails, checking the news, scrolling some more. I wasn't thinking about it. It was just what I did.

A few months ago, I stopped doing that. I decided to just sit there with the espresso and nothing else. No phone, no input, just me and whatever showed up.

The first few mornings were surprisingly hard. Five minutes of doing nothing felt like thirty. My mind kept reaching for something to latch onto — a client to follow up with, an email to check. It wasn't overwhelming, but I noticed it. I kept wanting to fill the quiet with something productive.

And that's when I started to notice how deep the pattern actually ran. It wasn't just a morning habit. It was how I moved through most of my day — filling every gap before anything underneath could surface.

Your day is probably spoken for too. And if you're like me, it doesn't feel like avoidance — it just feels like a full life. But I've been thinking about something my recent podcast guest, Molly Carroll, said: "I was covering the pain with progress." Progress is easy to point to. It gives you a sense that things are working. And at the same time, it can keep certain things just out of view.

What busyness actually protects

There's a reason the quiet feels uncomfortable, and it goes deeper than scheduling. Your brain has a network — researchers call it the default mode network — that only activates during unstructured moments. It handles self-reflection, emotional processing, making meaning out of experience. When you fill every gap with input, you shut that system down. And your brain doesn't mind, because stillness can feel like a threat — especially if you've spent years in roles where there's always something to solve. Take the task away, and the emotional system starts surfacing whatever you've been holding at bay. That's what I felt those first mornings with the espresso. The restlessness wasn't about productivity. It was my nervous system trying to avoid whatever was waiting in the silence.

Over time, I've noticed that avoidance adds up. My conversations started to feel more like performances than actual exchanges. I was in the room, but not fully there. Listening, but part of my mind was already on what's next.

What feels like it needs to be resolved here?

Because most of the time, I find myself moving on too quickly. Back to the next thing, the next decision, the next problem to solve.

What I'm practicing instead

And occasionally, I don't reach. I just stay there a moment longer than I normally would.

It's not a big change. But it's usually enough to notice what I've been moving past — a tension I hadn't named, a feeling I'd been outrunning, or sometimes just the recognition that I'm tired in a way that another task won't fix.

You don't need a meditation retreat. You just need the willingness to sit still when everything in you wants to move.

That's the practice. Not solving the busyness. Just noticing what it's been protecting you from, and being willing to stay there long enough to find out.