Weekend Alchemy

 

They say being busy is a badge of honor. But I’ve discovered that having too much time can be its own special kind of chaos.

When I lived far from work, my weeks were a blur of commutes. Time was a scarce resource, meticulously budgeted. But when I moved into town, that scarcity vanished. Suddenly, my weekends stretched out before me, vast and empty. And in that emptiness, my mind would throw a party the worst kind.

It would invite all my past regrets: Did they really forgive me? It would parade anxieties about the future: Why don’t I have what they have? I’d get stuck in a loop of comparison and fretting, nursing worries without taking a single step forward. I was busy, but only in my head. It was exhausting.

The turning point was a simple but radical decision: to fill the empty hours with my own two hands.

I decided Saturdays were for doing, not drifting. I claimed them for myself no work, no chores. Instead, I picked up volunteering sessions. I learned the patience of baking bread. I mastered the smoky art of barbecuing and painting . Sundays became for building life skills, for the pure, messy joy of creating something.

It wasn’t about becoming a master chef or artist. It was about giving my restless mind a tangible anchor. The focus required to follow a recipe, to mix a color, to tend a grill it silenced the noisy committee of past and future in my head.

Now, my weekends are productive in the truest sense. They produce joy, skill, and a profound sense of peace. I transformed idle time from a playground for anxiety into a studio for my own growth. The empty hours aren’t scary anymore; they’re a gift I’ve learned how to open.

Sometimes, the most productive thing you can do isn't on a to-do list. It's in volunteering your time to help others, the flour on your hands to create a pastry, the paint on the canvas, and the quiet satisfaction of a weekend well spent. We are here for a very short time and sometimes we take it for granted.