Unlearning Hustle Culture: My Journey Towards Doing Less
If you’d told my younger self that one day I’d be actively trying to do less, she would have laughed, rolled her eyes, highlighted a page in her planner, and added three more things to the list for good measure. I didn’t grow up with balance; I grew up with hustle. Like so many of us, I was shaped by a culture that equated constant productivity with worth. Being busy wasn’t just something I did; it was who I was.
And honestly? I’m still learning how to let go of that.
Unlearning hustle culture hasn’t been a single revelation or a dramatic life pivot. It’s been a slow, messy, uncomfortable unravelling, full of moments when I catch myself sprinting through a day as if my value depends on it. I’m still very much in the thick of this work, but the journey so far has changed me in ways I never expected.
The Hustle Identity: Who Am I Without Constant Doing?
For most of my life, productivity has been my coping mechanism. If things felt chaotic, which they often did, I buried myself in tasks. If I could tick something off, I could justify my existence. If I stayed busy, no one could accuse me of laziness. If I was exhausted, at least it meant I’d been “good”.
But when you’ve built an identity on constant doing, slowing down isn’t peaceful. It’s terrifying.
When I first started questioning hustle culture, I found myself staring down these deeply uncomfortable questions:
Who am I if I’m not working all the time?
Who am I if I don’t push myself to the edge?
Who am I without the pressure?
I don’t have neat answers yet. I’m still figuring it out, and maybe I always will be. But every day I unlearn a little more.
My Body Forced Me to Listen (Because I Wasn’t Listening to Myself)
I didn’t begin this journey because I felt enlightened. I began it because my body crashed repeatedly, while I insisted I was fine.
The anxiety.
The migraines.
The bone-deep fatigue I tried to “power through”.
The inability to rest because my brain was already editing tomorrow’s to-do list.
The guilt that crept in the moment I sat down.
Eventually, my body delivered the message I had ignored for years: stop.
And even then, it was hard. Stopping felt like failure. Rest felt like laziness. Doing less felt like giving something up.
But burnout has a way of stripping away your illusions. I had no choice but to learn, and I’m still learning, how to listen to myself before reaching breaking point.
Doing Less Isn’t Inaction, It’s Intention
When I first tried slowing down, I honestly hated it. I felt itchy. Restless. Guilty. I kept trying to fill every quiet moment with something “useful”.
But slowly, very slowly, doing less started to feel different.
It stopped being about what I wasn’t doing and became about what I was choosing to make space for. And that’s still something I'm practising every day.
Now, doing less means:
Logging off at the time I said I would (even if the urge to squeeze in “one last thing” is strong).
Saying no before I’ve overcommitted myself into resentment.
Resting because I need to, not because I’ve “earned” it.
Letting things go undone without spiralling into guilt.
Allowing myself boredom, joy, and moments of nothing in particular.
I don’t get this right all the time. Not even close. But I’m learning, slowly and imperfectly, to choose intention over constant activity.
Rewriting My Worth (A Lesson I Keep Relearning)
One of the hardest things about unlearning hustle culture is detaching your worth from your output. I wish I could say I’ve cracked it, but truthfully, this is the part I revisit again and again.
Every time I rest, a little voice still whispers that I should be doing more. Every time I slow down, a familiar guilt rises in my chest. Every time I say no, I worry I’ll disappoint someone.
But there are also moments, increasingly frequent ones, where I feel proud of myself for resting. Where I close the laptop without shame. Where I remind myself that I am a person, not a machine.
I’m learning to believe that my value doesn’t evaporate when I’m still. I’m learning that rest isn’t indulgence; it’s necessity. And I’m learning that my worth isn’t a reward for productivity.
Doing Less to Make Space for What Really Matters
The funny thing, the part hustle culture never tells you, is that when you stop doing everything, you finally figure out what actually matters.
Doing less has given me:
More creativity
Better boundaries
Time to breathe
Moments of joy that aren’t squeezed between tasks
Space for the people I love
A work life that’s far more sustainable (and actually better)
And I didn’t get any of that by perfecting the art of rest. I got it through stumbling, recalibrating, and learning as I go.
It’s Not Linear, It’s Practice
If there’s one thing I’ve realised, it’s this: unlearning hustle culture isn’t a straight line. It’s a practice. Some days I’m brilliant at it; other days I slip straight back into overworking without even noticing.
But now, I catch myself. And I gently pull back. And that, to me, is progress.
I’m still learning how to do less.
I’m still learning how to rest.
I’m still learning how to trust that the world won’t fall apart if I stop trying to hold it all together.
And if you’re learning too, you’re not behind. You’re human.
Doing less isn’t weakness. It’s reclamation.
It’s choosing yourself, again and again, until it feels natural.
And I promise, even in the messiness of learning, it’s worth it.
_
Hana Ames is a professional content writer with hundreds of pieces of content under her belt. She is a cat and dog mama, a feminist, and a musical theatre fan, who enjoys cooking, playing board games and drinking cocktails. She has been writing professionally since 2018 and has a degree in English. Her website is www.hrawriting.com and she is always interested in discussing exciting new projects to see how she can help your business grow. Catch her on Twitter @hrawriting, Instagram @hrawriting and Facebook: www.facebook.com/hrawriting
