For the past few years, I’ve had the same New Year’s resolution, which, on paper, may seem to be the antithesis of what a New Year’s resolution should be. But I swear it’s one that is slowly but surely making me a bit more successful: Each year, I vow to be a little less productive.
While I like to think of myself as a sort of laid-back, laissez-faire type, the reality is, I’m pretty much a type A. My list-making alone is proof of this. I start most days making long to-do lists that one could argue set me up for failure. Typically, I have one work to-do list and one life to-do list. Admittedly, I rarely check off everything but man, do I feel good the few times a year it happens.
I’m definitely a victim of our very American obsession with productivity (an obsession that’s actually quite counterproductive). We want to “do it all” to “have it all,” be multihyphenates; and social media is full of folks who can turn anything, from skincare to simply getting up, into a multistep routine. Rise and grind! Hustle! Optimize!
This mindset doesn’t necessarily translate into happiness—something that, the older I get, I’m increasingly a glutton for. A big part of that is prioritizing my work-life balance, ensuring that I’m not using every waking moment working or being productive, being deliberate about drawing more boundaries and intentional about spending some time where nothing “productive” is accomplished.
Work-life balance has been in the headlines lately, as it often is this hectic time of year. New research shows that the United States has the longest average work day, with eight hours and 29 minutes, equating to American employees working more than 18% longer than their counterparts. (The same study finds that Finland has the best work-life balance and is, coincidentally, the happiest country according to the World Happiness Report.) Meanwhile, tech founder Daksh Gupta recently went viral by admitting that his own company has no work-life balance.
In 2019, at the ripe old age of 35, I realized that being productive for productivity’s sake isn’t necessarily in my best interest, personally or professionally. I’d left a pretty toxic job, and when I sat down to figure out what I learned from said experience—something I try to do after significant life transitions—I realized that being the first in and last out didn’t necessarily make my work better. And it didn’t ingratiate me with upper management. Nothing guarantees that.
The next job I took was for a company that prioritized work-life balance from the top down: There was unlimited PTO you were actually encouraged to take, I never felt pressure to answer work communication after hours, and we were allowed to work a flexible schedule as long as we were communicative about it. It was a good reminder that slowing down and measuring things in quality versus quantity—which we all intrinsically know, but is easy to forget in the dog-eat-dog world that is U.S. corporate culture—often produces higher quality work. At least for me, it also made work that much more enjoyable.
That’s when I started my quest to make each year just a little less productive. It started small. I’d limit the number of things on my to-do lists, the yearly goals I’d set for myself, and give myself hard workplace boundaries. (The first year, that included a hard stop at 5 p.m. when the workday concluded.)
I quickly found that measuring productivity more by the outcomes of the projects versus how much I got done meant that my work got more precise and insightful. For example, writing one blog post that resonated with readers and got them to sign up for a consultation was much more valuable than five blogs published in one week that everyone skimmed. Work also became more enjoyable. That’s because enjoyable work enhances work performance.
The following year, I subtracted more from those daily lists and yearly goals. I also decided to take a few breaks during the workday to do nothing. This isn’t anything crazy—10 to 15 minutes here and there when I have no meetings—and it’s easy since I work remotely. I don’t go on walks. I don’t read a book. I’ll often just sit on my patio, listen to music, think for a few minutes, or let my mind wander.
I don’t know if I’ll ever look back on 2024 fondly, per se—it was a challenging year for various reasons—but I will look back at it as one of the most professionally successful years of my life. I started a new job with many new opportunities, and my freelance writing career is thriving.
Should I cut back a bit more in 2025? I’d like to, but I also think focusing too much on prioritizing my free time—on optimizing nonproductiveness, if you will—could become a slippery slope; the kind that leads me to, say, write an article about being a little less productive, which launches into TikTok and Instagram channels dedicated to the same subject, which would support the Master Class on nonproductiveness I plan on launching in 2026 . . . Just kidding. I think what it will actually look like is limiting the daily, or sometimes twice-daily, lists I make to a set number of obtainable items.
