We work because we must. Bills are unrelenting, life is expensive, and responsibility waits for no one. From our earliest days, we’ve understood the necessity of labor—it’s a story we carry, a justification deeply ingrained. But beneath this neat explanation lies a deeper, more tangled truth that’s harder to confront: we work so hard not only out of necessity but out of fear.

The Terror of Stillness

It’s not just the world that frightens us; it’s what happens when we stop. The stillness can be unbearable, echoing with questions and feelings we’re not ready to face. Work, with its ceaseless demands, becomes the perfect distraction, a socially approved method to escape the disquiet within. After all, who could fault you for staying busy?

The Noise from Without

We turn up the volume of life to drown out the whispers inside. The hum of deadlines, meetings, and goals is far less threatening than the uncharted terrain of our own minds. Who are we without the metrics of success? Stripped of titles, achievements, and accolades, we flounder, unsure of how to be seen—or if we’d want to be.

Fear of Connection

Many of us don’t know how to connect with others beyond what we do. Friendships often orbit shared projects or ambitions; conversations are colored by productivity. To be known simply as we are feels dangerous, even unimaginable. Perhaps no one ever held us quietly, without expectation. Perhaps we’ve forgotten how to be still long enough to let anyone in.

The Flight from Sadness

Busyness is a clever disguise for unresolved sorrow. The regret we push down, the questions we avoid—they wait in the wings, threatening to rise in moments of pause. So we don’t pause. Work becomes both shield and sword, defending us from sadness and giving us a battle to fight. Peace, with its unfamiliar quiet, feels infinitely harder than war.

What Lies Beneath

We work because we fear where reflection might take us. What would we find if we let the questions in? What dreams, beliefs, or identities might we have to leave behind? What might we have to acknowledge about the sadness, the loneliness, the unmet needs we carry? The unknown is terrifying, so we stay in motion, running from ourselves.

The Real Work

Maybe the true work isn’t in the office or on the project list. Perhaps it lies in learning to stop, to sit with the discomfort, and to meet the quiet parts of ourselves. It might mean admitting that we’re scared, that we’ve been running, and that our worth doesn’t hinge on what we produce. The real work, paradoxically, may look like rest, connection, or finally letting go.

It’s hard to stop. It’s harder to face the stillness. But maybe, in that stillness, lies the peace we’ve been running from all along.

Credit: This blog is inspired by “Why Do We Work So Hard?” from The School of Life.