The Moment I Felt It

I started writing this piece while waiting for lunch in a quiet Houston suburb in late November. Compared to New York. Everything felt calm and slow for one from New York. For the first time in a while, I wasn’t doing anything—and that alone felt unfamiliar.

Earlier this year, I was finally asked to take my PTO because I hadn’t used any by September. I put all of it around Thanksgiving. That break accidentally became a pause in my fast-moving routine, giving me space to look back and actually listen to myself for the first time in a while.

The Developer Who Can’t Stop

This is my third year as a developer, and another year full of AI buzz, probably the noisiest one. As someone in his intermediate stage of career, I’ve somehow become a Swiss-knife, wide skills, scattered focus, not enough depth anywhere. At the same time, I’ve spent most of the year feeling like I lacked control, pulled around by industry shifts given all the chaos happened.

Am I tired and dislike coding? No, I still like, even more than I did when I started. It gives me a sense of control. But my career? My place in the tech landscape? Those things don’t work like code. They’re unpredictable.

Therefore, leaning into what I could control is a reasonable choice: doing something seemingly meaningful at each moment. This fear of doing nothing made its way into my routine, pushing me to fill every gap in my day so that I never had to face it.

The Person I Forgot to Be

I wrote As a Developer section first on purpose. It reflects how much of my year revolved around work and learning.

My life was skewed. I tried to balance things. I went to the gym at least twice a week, played games to relax, watched movies or anime occasionally. But these were merely forms of distraction, they kept my brain occupied, so that I didn’t have to sit with the discomfort of doing nothing.

I read fewer books this year. Went out less. And honestly, I didn’t spend as much time with my family as I should have. Whenever stillness tried to sneak in, I escaped by doing something else.

The fear of doing nothing slowly pushed me into constant action at the cost of being present and real connections.

Just Do Nothing

Staying at apartment, especially sitting in front of my desk, only traps me in the working mode. The vacation destination isn’t my choice, but flying somewhere very different from New York drastically shifted everything.

I left my laptop in the hotel, kept my phone deep inside backpack, through quiet suburban streets with no real plan. With nothing to do, my senses finally had room to show up. Trees growing wildly along the sidewalks, quiet corners with empty benches, people lying on the grass even though this is weekday.

There is an Italian phrase, dolce far niente, meaning the sweetness of doing nothing. Somewhere along the way, I lost that sweetness. “Relaxation” had turned into another productivity task, a way to recharge efficiently, as fast as possible, so I could get back to do more.

At lunch, the crispy chicken tender is pretty delicious, while the BBQ pork bowl is too salty. I only realized the taste of the food after I almost finished two-third of them. was eating the way I had been living. My mouth was doing its job with my attention somewhere else. Food became fuel only, their taste no longer mattered.

Finishing rest of food mindfully, then sitting on a random bench and drafting up this pieces, I finally had a conversation with myself again after a long time. No to-dos. No noise. Just me, facing the fear of doing nothing directly.

What I Was Actually Afraid of？

Why one would be afraid of doing nothing? What my fear is of exactly?

• Failing behind? Yes.
• The future? Yes.
• Wasting time? Not exactly.

After living in a nonstop mode for a while, I realized a deeper fear: the fear of facing myself. It seems that my subconscious knew the life had drifted from the one I wanted, and stopping would reveal this to my conscious mind. Thus, staying busy became a shield protecting me from my own thoughts.

Surprisingly and unsurprisingly, doing nothing didn’t kill me, and a self-focused moment was enjoyable.

The vacation wasn’t intentional, but thankfully, it is a pause, a break from the hustle, a small moment to reconnect with myself. And maybe that’s something I need to practice, not doing more, but doing nothing.