I’m Here, but My Mind Is Already Somewhere Else
I’m one of those people who makes a daily to-do list.
And I don’t just write down the important things. Even the smallest tasks make their way onto the list. Sending an email, going grocery shopping, submitting a document, doing the laundry… Whatever needs to get done that day finds its place somewhere on it.
But it doesn’t end with making the list.
That’s when the foxes in the back of my mind get to work.
What order should I do these in so I can finish everything faster?
Would it make more sense to do this first and then go there?
Can I get two things done at the same time?
Even if I’m just going out to browse a few shops, my mind starts mapping out a little route. What order would make the most sense? Which shop should I go to first? What exactly do I need to look for? How should I plan the route so I don’t have to walk the same way twice?
At some point, even a simple shopping trip can turn into a small-scale logistics operation.
The intention behind all of this is actually quite simple: to make the best possible use of my time.
But sometimes I catch myself wondering:
While trying so hard to do everything as efficiently as possible, am I forgetting to actually experience what I’m doing?
Because while I’m trying to be present in the moment I’m in, the foxes in the back of my mind are already calculating the next step.
The Foxes in the Back of My Mind
The foxes in the back of my mind never really go quiet.
While I’m doing one thing, they’re already thinking about the next.
“If we do this now, we’ll have more time tomorrow.”
“Since we’re already out, we might as well get this done too.”
“Don’t forget this.”
“There might not be time for it later.”
Sometimes, even when I’ve decided to rest, they keep working. I’ll be watching a film when something I need to do the next day suddenly comes to mind. I’ll be sitting with friends and find myself planning what I’m going to do when I get home. Before the moment I’m in has even ended, my mind has already moved on to the next one.
The foxes don’t actually mean any harm.
They’re trying to make sure I don’t forget anything, that I keep up, that I don’t lose control, and that I use my time as efficiently as possible. In a way, they’re trying to make life easier for me.
The problem is that they never stop.
Because when my mind is constantly calculating the next step, even if my body is physically present, I’m never fully there.
I’m watching a film, but planning tomorrow.
I’m in the middle of a conversation, but calculating the rest of my day.
And sometimes I realize that while trying to keep up with the next moment, I’m missing the one I’m already in.
Does Every Moment Have to Be Productive?
After a while, this constant calculating is no longer limited to the things on my to-do list.
Even the empty spaces in my day become opportunities to get something done.
If I’m eating, it might be a good time to watch that video I’ve been meaning to see.
If I’m on the bus, I can check my emails.
If I’m on the train, I can finish something I left incomplete.
If I arrive somewhere early, I can use the waiting time to get something else out of the way.
Even when I get into bed at night, the foxes in the back of my mind can keep planning the next day. What am I going to do tomorrow? What order should I do everything in? What can I prepare today to make tomorrow go faster?
It’s as if no moment of the day is allowed to simply exist on its own.
Every gap has to be filled. Every minute has to be put to good use.
“Instead of just sitting around…”
“Since I’m already here…”
“I might as well make the most of today.”
At some point, even rest can stop feeling like actual rest. Free time becomes something we use to recharge ourselves so that we can be more productive when we return to the next task.
And alongside this, something called productivity guilt can begin to appear: that uneasy feeling we experience when we are not producing, completing something, or using our time “well enough.”
Because without even realizing it, we can begin to connect how much we accomplish with how good we feel about ourselves.
A productive day becomes a good day.
When we get a lot done, we feel successful.
When we do nothing, it can feel as though we have wasted the entire day.
But perhaps the question we need to ask ourselves is this:
Do we really have to fill every space, or can we allow some moments to simply be lived without needing them to serve any purpose at all?
Why Is My Mind Always in the Future?
So why is my brain still making to-do lists even when I’m supposed to be resting?
Thinking about the future is not inherently a bad thing. The human mind does not focus solely on the present moment; it anticipates what might happen, makes plans, and prepares for situations that have not yet occurred. Through anticipatory thinking, we can plan what we need to do tomorrow, anticipate possible needs, and organize our lives.
And that is exactly what some of the foxes in the back of my mind are doing.
“We need to do this tomorrow.”
“Don’t forget to pick that up when you go out.”
“If we do this now, things will be easier later.”
Then there is prospective memory: our ability to remember to carry out something we intend to do at the right time in the future. Remembering to send an email tomorrow, stop by the supermarket on the way home, or make an appointment next week are all examples of this. So, in many ways, having our minds occasionally remind us of tasks that have not yet happened is actually quite useful.
However, when we are holding too many tasks, plans, and things to remember in our minds at once, our cognitive load can increase. Our working memory and attention are not unlimited. Trying to focus on the present while simultaneously carrying the question “What do I need to do next?” means that both are competing for the same limited mental resources.
Sometimes, worry enters the picture too.
While planning says, “I’ll do this tomorrow,” worry tends to circle possible negative outcomes: “What if I don’t get everything done?”
“What if I forget?”, or “What if I run out of time?” Because worry can also consume our attention and working-memory resources, we may be physically resting while our minds are still busy working through something.
Perhaps that is why we sometimes don’t feel truly rested even when we are doing nothing.
Our body may be on the sofa.
But our mind is already in tomorrow.
Planning makes life easier. It helps us remember things and prepare for what lies ahead. The problem is not planning itself. The problem is how much room remains for the present when our minds are constantly living in the future.
Because while the foxes in the back of my mind are busy organizing tomorrow, I might be missing today.
I’m Keeping Up, But Am I Actually Living?
The strange thing is, sometimes I really do manage to keep up.
The email has been sent.
The task has been completed.
The laundry has been done.
Everything I needed to buy has been bought.
The plan has been made.
One by one, every item on the list has been ticked off.
On paper, it looks like a very productive day.
But sometimes, when I look back at the end of the day, I find myself asking a different question:
Not how much did I get done today, but how much of today did I actually live?
Because when I’m constantly thinking about what comes next, the moment I’m in can easily become nothing more than another step I need to get through.
I eat my meal because I have things to do once I’m finished.
I complete one task, but before I can even enjoy the relief of having finished it, I’m already moving on to the next.
Sometimes, even when I’m finally doing something I’ve been looking forward to for a long time, part of my mind is already calculating what comes afterwards.
And when that happens, the day comes to an end, but I feel as though I’ve simply rushed through it.
Perhaps this is exactly where the difference between keeping up and actually living lies.
Completing something does not necessarily mean we truly experienced it.
When we spend our lives constantly preparing for the next moment, today can become just another task that needs to be completed in order to reach tomorrow.
And maybe the foxes in the back of my mind managed to keep up with everything.
But was I actually there?
What Happens When I Do Nothing?
So what happens when I decide to spend an entire day doing absolutely nothing?
At first, it sounds quite nice.
I don’t have to rush anywhere today.
There’s nothing that needs to be completed.
I can just sit for a while.
But it doesn’t take long before the foxes in the back of my mind reappear.
“Isn’t there something you should be doing?”
“Since you have the time, why don’t you get this done?”
“Couldn’t you make better use of this time?”
And suddenly, even resting doesn’t feel quite so easy.
Because when we become accustomed to constantly completing things and using our time as efficiently as possible, doing nothing can create a strange sense of unease.
As though an empty hour is a wasted hour.
As though, even to deserve rest, we first need to have worked hard enough, exhausted ourselves enough, or crossed enough things off our to-do list.
Perhaps that is why the question is not simply whether we know how to rest.
Sometimes, we know perfectly well how to rest.
We can put our phones away.
We can lie down.
We can do absolutely nothing.
The difficult part is doing all of that without carrying the thought “I should be doing something else right now” somewhere in the back of our minds.
So perhaps the question we really need to ask ourselves is this:
Do we not know how to rest, or do we not know how to permit ourselves to rest?
Kaynakça
- Einstein, G. O., & McDaniel, M. A. (1990). Normal aging and prospective memory. Journal of Experimental Psychology: Learning, Memory, and Cognition, 16(4), 717–726.
- Szpunar, K. K., Spreng, R. N., & Schacter, D. L. (2014). A taxonomy of prospection: Introducing an organizational framework for future-oriented cognition. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 111(52), 18414–18421.
- Sweller, J. (1988). Cognitive load during problem solving: Effects on learning. Cognitive Science, 12(2), 257–285.
- Eysenck, M. W., Derakshan, N., Santos, R., & Calvo, M. G. (2007). Anxiety and cognitive performance: Attentional control theory. Emotion, 7(2), 336–353.