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Why Can’t I Stop Keeping Busy?

  • Writer: Gemini Thomson
    Gemini Thomson
  • Jul 24
  • 3 min read

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When restlessness hides an invisible grief

Have you ever tried sitting in stillness—just for five minutes? No sound, no distractions, alone. Just sitting. Feeling what that stillness is like.

And if you try… what happens?

For some people, the idea of sitting quietly is almost horrifying. A strong restlessness kicks in—a desperate need to move, to do something, to get away.

If you’ve ever felt that, I wonder… do you notice the same restlessness in other areas of your life?

Do you notice that when you could be still—on a quiet evening, on a slow Sunday morning—you instead feel compelled to do something, anything? As though keeping moving means you’re leaving something behind. As though, if you stopped, something uncomfortable might catch up with you.

When Restlessness Is More Than Just Being ‘Busy’

Many people describe themselves as naturally restless. They’ll say:

“That’s just me—I’m someone who needs to keep busy. I thrive on high-intensity sports, I need to work hard all the time. I can’t sit still.”

And for now, that might feel true—this is who you are. But I’m always curious about the story underneath:

  • What happened when you were little?

  • What was it like to be still then?

  • When big feelings came—sadness, anger, disappointment—who helped you with those?

Because often, beneath busyness, there is an invisible grief. Something important that wasn’t given in childhood—enough warmth, appreciation, or simply someone to say “you’re okay, just as you are.”

That kind of sadness doesn’t disappear. It gets buried. And for many people, it hides under restlessness. Keeping busy feels safer than slowing down and touching that sadness.

The Natural Work of Adulthood – Repairing What Was Missed

It might help to know that this isn’t unusual. In fact, it’s a natural part of growing up. Many of us spend adulthood quietly repairing the parts of childhood where something was missed.

Some stories are harsher than others, but most of us carry some version of this.

And it makes perfect sense that, as adults, we often look back with rational, grown-up eyes:

“It’s okay what happened. I understand how it was for Mum and Dad. They were busy, they had problems. I didn’t really need much, I was fine.”

That’s how we cope.

But in therapy, we often invite something different. We gently encourage people to look back with child eyes. Not as the reasonable adult they are now, but as the little person they once were—at that age, with those small hopes, and those real needs.

Sometimes people are surprised, even shocked, by what they feel when they do this. But there’s a process to it:

  1. Meeting those buried emotions.

  2. Processing them at the pace your system can handle.

  3. Returning to that same adult understanding—only now including your own needs in the story.

You might say: “Yes, they had their struggles, but there were things I needed that I didn’t get.”

And something shifts. The silent grief that was quietly draining your energy starts to move. People often feel lighter. More rested. More alive in the quiet moments.

Listening to the Quiet Parts of You

In CBT, one of the simplest tools is the thought record. But used deeply, it’s a way of listening to those quiet parts of you:

  • “What exactly am I saying to myself right now?”

  • “What memories flicker underneath?”

  • “What emotions are here—sadness, disappointment, anger?”

In modern life, we rarely stop to listen to this inner world. But often, it’s where the invisible grief lives—the part of you that makes you tired in the gaps between all your busyness.

If Sitting Still Feels Impossible

So if you’re horrified at the thought of sitting in silence for even five minutes, it makes perfect sense. Your mind has very good reasons for wanting to keep moving.

But maybe it’s time to turn gently toward that part of you. To go back and look after the younger side of you that didn’t always get what it needed.

You don’t have to do it alone. You can take someone with you.

If this resonates, you’re welcome to get in touch. Sometimes just sitting with that story together can change everything.


 
 
 

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