When Busy Becomes a Coping Mechanism
What I learned about burnout, avoidance and the addiction to being needed...
There was a moment after my second child was born when I slowed down - or at least, I tried to.
I’d stepped back from my work in marketing to focus on life with two small children. But the stillness was… uncomfortable. Before long, I filled the space. I took up running, swimming, cycling. I signed up for a triathlon. I went to catering college in the evenings and started a side business cooking for events and weddings. Within a year, I’d built a whole new life of ‘busy.’
Looking back, I can see it clearly: I wasn’t resting. I was pushing through. Again.
At the time, I didn’t recognise the signs - until I burned out completely. I was disconnected, shut down, overwhelmed. I told myself this was my comfort zone, but it wasn’t. It was just what I’d always known. Rest had felt like weakness. Stillness had felt unsafe. My family - like many families - valued hard work, independence, pushing on. I’d absorbed that without realising and turned it into an entire identity.
Things started to shift when I began therapy. I was in my mid-thirties, exhausted, juggling two children and multiple businesses. I’d hit a wall. And finally… I paused. It was the first time I really looked at myself and saw the cost of always needing to be strong.
I’m not “healed” - I don’t think healing works that way. But I am far more self-aware now. I let myself rest more. I even (cautiously!) ask for help sometimes - which is still a huge step for me.
That’s what healing has looked like for me.
And it’s why I wrote this post.
When productivity becomes protection
Some of us learn early that being “useful” is a way to stay connected.
We overfunction. We anticipate needs. We become the reliable one, the organised one, the one who never drops the ball. And that identity gets reinforced - by praise, by success, by survival.
But often, beneath it all, is fear:
Fear of stillness.
Fear of emotional overwhelm.
Fear of being “too much” or not enough unless we’re doing something.
This is especially true for those of us with avoidant attachment patterns - where doing becomes safer than feeling. Where independence is worn like armour. Where asking for help feels foreign, if not terrifying.
What “busy” can hide
Sometimes it hides sadness.
Sometimes it hides shame.
Often, it hides the grief of not feeling seen unless we’re performing.
We don’t do this consciously. But the body remembers.
The nervous system gets trained to stay in motion - to avoid the drop. And when we do slow down, it doesn’t feel restful… it feels panicky. So we find new ways to fill the space.
The cost?
Chronic exhaustion
Burnout masked as “achievement”
Emotional disconnection
Loneliness in relationships
Never quite feeling done
A different kind of strength
If this feels familiar to you, I want to say this gently:
Your worth is not tied to your output.
You do not need to be busy to be loved.
You are allowed to rest without explanation.
And yes - it will feel uncomfortable at first.
But that discomfort is not a sign you’re doing something wrong.
It’s a sign that your nervous system is learning to trust the quiet.
A reflection to take away
When was the last time you stopped - really stopped - without filling the gap with something productive?
What comes up in the stillness?
And what would it be like to stay with that feeling just a few seconds longer than usual - not to fix it, but to meet it with kindness?
You are more than what you achieve.
More than what you provide.
And so much more than what you push through.
If you resonate with this post I’d love to hear in what way so please comment below if you’d like to share. It’s good to connect over these things!
Warmly,
Kaori
That sounds familiar