Why Do We Keep Waiting for Life to Slow Down?

Every summer I find myself thinking the same thing. Maybe life will slow down a little. Summer seems like it should have a different rhythm. Longer evenings, vacations, time on the porch and a little more breathing room. We picture ourselves finally reading the book that's been sitting on the nightstand, taking that weekend trip we've been talking about, reconnecting with friends, or simply enjoying a slower pace.

Then somewhere between work, family, vacations, camps, yard projects, and realizing school is somehow just around the corner, July quietly slips away. I find myself asking the same question I asked in the spring. Where did the time go? The more I've thought about it, the more I've wondered if that's actually the wrong question.

Years ago, while I was completing my counseling internship, I remember mentioning to the owner of the practice where I worked that life seemed to move faster every year. She smiled and offered an explanation I've never forgotten. "When you're four years old," she said, "one year is a quarter of your life. By the time you're thirty, one year is only a small percentage of it."

Whether that's the reason or not, her words captured something I've continued to experience. As the years pass, time seems to pick up speed. Before we know it, we're the age we once thought our parents were. Seasons that once felt endless now seem to disappear almost as quickly as they arrive.

I remember listening to the song Runaway Train by Soul Asylum years ago. While the song itself is about something much different, that phrase has always stayed with me. Sometimes life feels like a runaway train. It just keeps moving. We keep thinking we'll catch our breath after the next project, the next season, the next obligation, but another one always seems to arrive.

Then COVID happened. As strange and difficult as that season was, something unexpected happened for many of us. For a brief moment, life became more...analog. Restaurants closed. Sporting events stopped. Calendars emptied. We walked our neighborhoods. We sat on front porches. We baked bread or cookies. We played games with our families, mine played virtual trivia. We rediscovered simple conversations that didn't have to fit between appointments. Life wasn't necessarily easier, but for many people it was slower. And in that slower pace, many of us remembered what it felt like to actually be present. It didn't last.

Eventually calendars filled again. The pace returned. Life accelerated back to where it was. Which makes me wonder if we've been asking the wrong question all along. Maybe the goal isn't for life to slow down. Maybe the goal is to stop waiting to start living.

So many of us live with an invisible sentence running through our minds. "Once this season is over..." "Once work settles down..." "Once the kids get older..." "Once I retire..." "Once I get through this..." The problem is that there is almost always another "once." This could be another hurdle, an additional responsibility, or a season demanding our attention.

As a therapist, I've noticed that what gets postponed is rarely another task. It's often the very things that make us feel most alive. The book we've wanted to read. The friend we've been meaning to call. The walk we've promised ourselves. The hobby we keep saying we'll get back to. The prayer we never quite make time for. The quiet moments where we can actually hear ourselves think. Perhaps the greatest cost isn't simply that we don't accomplish those things. It's that somewhere along the way, we lose touch with ourselves.

We become so busy managing life that we no longer have space to hear our own soul. That sentence feels especially important to me because I don't actually think "busy" is what any of us hope defines our lives. In our culture, busy has almost become a badge of honor. We wear it as proof that we're productive, needed, or important. But I've never met someone who hoped that would be their legacy. No one hopes people will one day say, "She was incredibly busy." I think what we're really longing for is something much different. We long for a life that feels full. Not full because every hour is scheduled. Full because we've intentionally filled it with what matters most. There's a difference. A busy life is measured by how much fits on our calendar. A full life is measured by whether the right things have found a place in our heart.

That kind of life requires something our world rarely encourages. It requires intention. It requires paying attention. It requires choosing, over and over again, what deserves our time, our energy, and our presence. Because in the end, I don't think slowing down is simply about having fewer commitments. I think it's about becoming more present in the commitments we've chosen.

Maybe life isn't going to slow down. Maybe it never was. But perhaps we can become more intentional about what receives our attention. Because attention shapes presence. Presence shapes relationships. Relationships shape a life. And one ordinary day at a time, that life becomes our legacy.

Reflection Question:

What part of your life have you been waiting to begin once things finally slow down? And what small step could you take this week instead of waiting for "someday"?

About the Author
Sarah Currie, Ph.D., LCMHC, is a licensed therapist, speaker, and founder of Halos Counseling. Through counseling, writing, and her From Stuck to Free framework, she helps thoughtful people better understand themselves, navigate life's transitions, and live with greater intention. Sarah believes that meaningful change begins not with having all the answers, but with asking the right questions.