“Have You Ever Really Slowed Down?” - asked my sister

It was 9pm. I was sitting with my laptop open, half watching Modern FaD2Cboxmily with my sister and half filling out a form my PR team had sent me. My sister and I have watched Modern Family so many times that we don't really watch it anymore. We just sit together, laugh at the same jokes, and wait for Gloria to inevitably butcher another English word.

The form had a question: “When was the last time you slowed down and felt guilty about it?” I looked at my sister. “Can you remind me when I last slowed down?” I asked her.

She didn't even think about it. “But have you ever really slowed down?”

I laughed a little. “Umm… yeah. I mean… I can't recall, but I'm sure you can help me.”

She paused. And then she said something I wasn't prepared for. “I’m sorry, but all I remember is you being busy. And apologising for both working and not being able to spend time with us.”

I didn't know what to say. I just stared at my laptop. Because she was right. And somehow, hearing it from someone who had watched me live through those years made it impossible to dismiss.

So I went back to the form and typed: “I am still learning to slow down, more so now than ever.”

At the time, I thought I knew what slowing down meant. I thought it had to be something dramatic. Disappear for ten days. Go to the mountains. Do a digital detox. Go completely off the grid. I even went to Vipassana once, partly because I thought, surely this will fix it.

But I'd come back and fall straight into the same patterns. Nine to twelve hours of work. Barely any attention to my health. Food that was mostly about making sure I didn't skip a meal. And an endless feeling that there was always something else I should be doing.

I had completely misunderstood what slowing down meant. I thought slowing down meant stepping away from my life. Maybe it actually meant learning how to be present inside it.

Because sometimes slowing down is not going to the mountains. Sometimes it's closing your laptop at 9pm and sitting next to your sister while Gloria says something ridiculous. Sometimes it's asking your team to take a ten-minute break because everyone has been staring at their screens for too long. Sometimes it's deciding that there will be no work calls after 7pm. Sometimes it's starting your morning with a chess lesson before your first meeting because you've wanted to learn chess since you were a child and somehow never found the time.

I've been doing that for a month now. And it's funny how something so small can make you realise how long you've been postponing your own life.

I had forgotten that work was a part of life. Not the entirety of it.

Somewhere along the way, I had started treating everything according to what it could do for me. Read this book because it will teach you something. Go here because it will help your work. Learn this because it will be useful. Meet this person because it could lead somewhere. Even rest had started needing a reason.

But I love reading. I love tribal fusion belly dancing. I love watching birds. And none of these things need to lead anywhere. They don't need to make me better at my job. They don't need to make me more successful. They don't even need to make sense. I can do them simply because something in me feels alive when I do.

And maybe those are the things that make everything else possible anyway.

The funny thing is, if you gave me an entire day with absolutely nothing I had to do, I don't think I'd know what to do with it immediately. The thought gives me tiny jitters.

But in a perfect world, I'd call my childhood friend. I'd go back to my hometown for a day. We'd pick imlis(tamrind), climb trees, look for ice golas(icesicles), hop on a scooty and drive around with nowhere to be. Just the wind. Our giggles. Absolutely nothing to worry about.

Maybe that's what slowing down is supposed to feel like. Not empty. Not unproductive. Just… nowhere else you need to be.

For a long time, I was scared that if I stopped, even for a little while, I'd lose my momentum. I'd miss an opportunity. I'd become irrelevant. I remember saying, “I will become irrelevant if I don't do this now,” far more often than I'd like to admit.

But time has taught me something I couldn't understand when I was in that headspace: What's meant for you will always find its way back to you. There are no wrong turns. Only detours. Because somehow, all roads always lead home.

I still haven't mastered this.

I have work boundaries now. No work texts or emails after 7pm, no matter how difficult it feels.

And sometimes it's really difficult. I'll still find myself scrolling through emails, DMs and analytics. I'll type out a reply. Then erase it. I'll tell myself I'll just check one thing. And underneath all of it is that familiar little voice asking, What if something goes wrong because you didn't respond?

Most nights, I listen to the boundary. Some nights, I don't.

I'm still learning.

But at least now, when my sister asks me if I've slowed down, I know what she's asking. And I know the answer doesn't have to be a ten-day retreat or a mountain or a completely different life.

Sometimes it can just be closing the laptop. Staying for the episode. Laughing at the same joke you've heard a hundred times. And remembering that your life is happening too.

I haven't figured out how to slow down. I'm just finally learning what slowing down actually is.