How do I stop feeling guilty for not working?

Especially when I'm supposed to be on vacation...

If you find this topic relatable or intriguing, please hit the heart button💖. Not only does it give me a warm, fuzzy feeling, but it also helps spread the word to others who might also need a guilt-free break.

I feel guilty.

I took off the last two weeks and didn’t tell anyone. No out of office message, no warning, I just didn’t do much work.

As an entrepreneur and business owner, I should be able to do that. That’s part of why I started my own business - more flexibility, more control, more “do whatever I want.”

(I also started it because I’m passionate about teaching people humor in the workplace and my bosses at P&G kept on wanting me to do my “real job” that I was “hired to do.”)

Yet I still feel guilty. And I’m not entirely sure why. Why do I, and I know many others, feel guilty about taking time off?

Did I get that mentality from my dad, who didn’t take a day off 3 days after having a minor heart attack?

Was it from school where “perfect attendance” was lauded as a goal? That means no sick days, no mental health days, and no skipping school to attend opening day of the Cincinnati Reds.

Or is it from some weird notion I got from growing up in the United States?

I distinctly remember former co-workers making fun of “Europeans” (we didn’t know enough to make any distinctions about countries) taking off a month for the summer. “They’re lazy,” “They must not be doing anything important,” “They’re probably just drinking their wine, eating their baguettes, and smoking cigarettes.” (Okay, maybe our stereotype was entirely based on the French. Oui, oui.)

But as I’ve gotten older (and married a German), my mindset has shifted.

Over the last two weeks in Ohio, I’ve gone for morning runs with Pretzel (my wife), checked out various nearby playgrounds with my daughter, taken her to her first baseball game, played hide and seek with my nephew, spent quality time with my brothers, gone for evening walks with my mom, and so much more.

I’m writing this email from a hotel in Nashville, TN after a wonderful two days at Mammoth Cave National Park in Kentucky. And we’ve still got 10 more days of roadtripping and family reunioning.

If it wasn’t for this guilt, I would feel amazing.

I joke in my stand-up that emotions are just data, but that is actually true. They are the closest thing humans have to error messages. They pop up and, if we’re smart about it (aka emotionally intelligent / self aware) we reflect on why we’re feeling the way we’re feeling.

So why do I really feel guilty about not working?

Why does anyone? After much processing (get it? 🤖) I think it comes down to three things:

1) I didn’t announce it

I don’t have a boss, but I do have you. There’s 12,000+ people who have now gotten used to me sending out a weekly email and you all got squat the last two weeks.

Logically, I know that you all probably didn’t mind at all. This is a free service, you didn’t pay for anything, and I think most of you like me. But I still feel a sense of obligation.

Just out of curiosity… did you notice there was no newsletter? Did I need to tell you I was taking time away? Are you upset I went to a baseball game?

Note to self #1: you’re part of a kind and understanding community, they are (most likely) happy you took time away.

2) Not working = not making money

For the majority of people in the US, if you’re not working, you’re not making money. Yes, some get paid time off or others work in marketing (just kidding, marketing friends), but for the most part, our time is connected to our pay.

This is particularly true for me as an entrepreneur, and especially as a speaker. The vast majority of our revenue at Humor That Works comes from me getting on stage. So if I’m not on stage, there’s less money coming in.

But that’s shifting. We’ve already had a great year so far, I now have a great team who is able to keep things moving along even when I’m out, and we have more streams of revenue that don’t require my time.

Note to self #2: your business is in a much better place than it was 5 years ago. You can take time to relax.

3) I love what I do

I’m very fortunate to be incredibly passionate about what I do. I genuinely enjoy writing these newsletters, hosting virtual happy hours, and, of course, getting on stage and making people laugh + think… aka launk (or is thaugh a better portmanteau?).

So when I don’t work on the business, part of me feels like I’m neglecting something I love. Just as I wouldn’t leave my daughter alone for two weeks, I feel wrong doing the same with my business.

Except… my business is older than my daughter. Humor That Works is officially 15 years old! At this point, it’s a super cool teenager that’s figured everything out and pretends to think I’m corny but secretly loves me even if it doesn’t always show it so readily.

(Parents, is that at all an accurate picture of what raising a teenager is like? I’m taking notes.)

Note to self #3: Taking time off doesn’t mean you don’t love your work. Also, you know from the research that time away can actually help you come back recharged and refreshed.

I’ve shared before that I sometimes start writing these newsletters without knowing exactly where they’re going to end up. That was the case today.

I truly felt guilty about not writing something the last two weeks (just ask Pretzel who had to deal with some of my anxiety about it. Sorry!). But using that emotion as a signal to investigate, writing this out to parse through my feelings, and making a few mental (and written) notes to myself (and now you) has helped me reframe the experience.

Basically, what I’m saying is… I’m going to enjoy the remainder of my holiday trying to feel less guilty.

In the meantime, how do you feel about taking time off? Do you enjoy it? Dread it? Feel guilty? And if you have any tips, please let me know!

I’ll see you in two weeks!

(an)drew

PS. In the spirit of taking time away, our next virtual happy hour will be Thursday August 22. Have a topic you want us to cover? Drop it in the comments.