I’m building a retaining wall this summer, and I already know I won’t stop until it’s finished. Almost a hundred pavers. Six at a time on a dolly from the garage to the backyard, then one at a time through the gate to the patio. Enough trips that I stopped counting.
Some of that happened during a heat advisory, the kind where the news tells you to stay inside and limit time outdoors. I grilled that weekend too. Finished the new string-light planters. Cleaned off the patio. Worked in the yard most of the days in between.
I didn’t really stop.
I’m not done yet. There’s still wall left to build.
This Is Why I Can’t Stop
But I already know the pattern I’m in, because I’ve been in it before. I get going on something — a project, a list, a version of the yard or the house I can finally see clearly — and I don’t pace it. I push through until it’s finished or until I physically can’t anymore, and the heat advisory or the pavers or whatever the obstacle is becomes more like a detail than a reason to stop.
The wall isn’t unusual for me. The wall is just the current version. Before it was the wall, it was something else. Before that, something else. I’ve always had a tendency to lock onto a project and keep pushing until it’s finished, partly because I enjoy it and partly because once I can see the finished version, I want to get there as quickly as possible.
The wall looks good so far. I’m proud of it.
But the days have already started costing something. My workouts have been inconsistent. My food hasn’t been as good as it normally is. By the time I finish working on the wall, I don’t have much left for anything that isn’t strictly necessary.
The things I actually want this season — time with Tom, my kids, family and friends, the blog, sitting outside with a cup of coffee and nowhere to be — keep getting pushed to whatever’s left over.
Which hasn’t been much.
The strange part is that the wall isn’t even the only thing I want to do. It’s just the thing that’s currently getting all of my attention.
For a long time I would have called that a fair trade. Get the thing done, pay for it after, move on. I think I learned somewhere that rest was the thing you did once everything else was handled. Maybe it’s the same thinking behind that old line, “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” The problem is that everything else is never fully handled. There is always another project, another improvement, another thing that feels worth finishing.
I used to feel something close to guilty resting, like I was choosing the easy thing over the responsible one. Lately, I’ve been trying to think about it differently. Rest isn’t a reward that comes after the work. It’s part of the same system. The wall needed a base layer before anything could be stacked on top. I don’t think I’m any different.
The truth is, I’ve actually been doing a better job of that lately. More balance. More recovery. More room in the week for things that matter but don’t produce anything.
And then this wall showed up.
Somewhere between the pavers, the yard work, the heat advisory, and everything else, I slipped back into an old pattern. Because once I can see the finished version of something, I start convincing myself that one more push won’t matter.
When Rest Chooses for You
Then Sunday happened. I overdid it enough that Monday and Tuesday I came home from work and went straight to bed. No blog. No sitting outside. No anything.
I didn’t choose the rest. The rest chose me.
Wednesday was better. Thursday was better still. But I’m still a little tired. The wall is still out there. I’m still going to finish it.
Being tired didn’t make me stop wanting to finish it. I can already see the retaining wall finished. The garden bed we’re building to finally do something about an ugly rocky berm sitting in the middle of the sloped backyard. The bushes and perennials. A yard that looks intentional instead of unfinished. A clear path for Tom to mow without navigating around something that was never supposed to be there in the first place.
That’s part of the problem. Once I can see the finished version, it’s easy to convince myself that one more weekend, one more project, one more push won’t matter. Most of the time, that’s exactly what I tell myself.
This week reminded me that every push has a cost.
The wall will get finished either way. But I’m trying to learn to let things take the time they take without pushing them – and to enjoy the process.
I’ve written before about what I keep choosing movement for — this is more about the pattern that gets in the way of it.
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