Does your calendar look more like a game of Tetris than a coherent, balanced schedule? I’ve overbooked myself more times than I can count—to work projects, social invites, and spontaneous obligations I had little or no bandwidth for. I don’t think I’m alone.

I’ve noticed an increasing trend to say “yes” to opportunities, projects, events, and invitations with the best of intentions, only to later find ourselves overwhelmed, depleted, and quietly wondering why we agreed in the first place. While it may be tempting to attribute this pattern to ambition or poor time management, I believe it reflects something deeper: an anxious, subconscious response to the ever-growing weight of unfinished tasks, the fear of missing out (FOMO), and, at its core, our discomfort with life’s fundamental uncertainty and impermanence. I am coming to see this habit of saying yes too often to be less about being productive, and more about trying to allay a deeper discomfort, internal restlessness, and/or an existential unease by staying chronically occupied. Here are four versions of this I’m becoming acquainted with.

The Allure of Busyness: A Coping Mechanism

Why is it that many of the public figures I’ve come to admire most seem so busy all the time? “Compulsive busyness” may have become a “badge of honor” and spurious sign of success in our increasingly fast-paced American culture. But, I believe overbooking can serve as a coping mechanism to manage an underlying angst we’re likely not addressing head-on. By filling our schedules, we create (or at least simulate) a sense of control and purpose, productivity, and accomplishment. I think this only temporarily alleviates feelings of uncertainty or inadequacy. However, this constant activity can lead to chronic stress and burnout. A study published in BMC Psychology (Liu et al., 2023) found that individuals who frequently overcommit experience higher stress and anxiety. It implied that overbooking may be a maladaptive strategy to cope with deeper emotional issues. Logically, the more overbooked we are, the lower the likelihood of the quality of the activities we’re engaging in.

The Fear of Missing Out (FOMO)

While well-intentioned, FOMO is a significant driver behind my tendency to overbook, and maybe yours, too. It’s rooted in a healthy, human desire for connection, engagement, and meaningful experience. The desire to be involved in every social event or professional opportunity stems from a fear that we’re missing valuable experiences. Gupta and Sharma (2021) found that FOMO is associated with increased stress and decreased life satisfaction. When we become over-identified with it and stuck in this pattern of over-identification, it can understandably lead to compulsive behaviors which progressively tax our well-being.

Death Anxiety and the Need for Completion

At a deeper level, our compulsion to stay busy may be linked to death anxiety—the fear and harsh reality of our mortality. Every day brings us inextricably closer. Engaging in numerous activities can be an unconscious attempt to create a legacy or achieve a sense of completeness before our time runs out. This behavior aligns with terror management theory, which posits that humans manage existential fears by seeking meaning and value through accomplishments (Naidu & Chew, 2023).

The Paradox of Overcommitment

Ironically, while overbooking aims to reduce anxiety, it often exacerbates it (which can lead, possibly tragically, to a stronger pull to more overbooking). The constant pressure to fulfill numerous obligations can lead to feelings of overwhelm and dissatisfaction. A study in the Journal of Health Psychology (Porru et al., 2020) found that overcommitment is linked to increased psychological distress and reduced mental health. This cycle creates a paradox where our efforts to manage anxiety through busyness actually intensify the feelings we’re aiming to escape.

Breaking the Cycle

I believe that recognizing the underlying causes of overbooking and recognizing overbooking as a symptom, not the core, root problem itself, is the a crucial step toward change. Here are four ways I’d begin to loosen the grip of chronic overcommitment:

Mindfulness with a Purpose: Mindfulness isn’t just about slowing down—it’s about tuning in. When we pause long enough to notice why we’re saying yes, we often uncover motivations like guilt, fear of irrelevance, or a desire to prove ourselves. Even five quiet minutes of intentional breathwork or journaling before making a new commitment can shift us from autopilot to agency, revealing whether your yes is rooted in values and connection—or in automaticity and fear.
Brave Boundaries: Saying “no” isn’t just a time-management tactic—it’s an emotional workout. When busyness becomes equated with worth, setting a boundary can feel physically uncomfortable, even guilt-inducing. But discomfort doesn’t mean something is wrong—it often means growth is happening. Over time, “brave boundaries” become acts of self-respect. If saying no feels harder than saying yes, you’re probably doing it right. Growth often feels awkward, maybe even temporarily unnatural, at first.
Therapy to Untangle the Roots: Overbooking often isn’t about logistics—it’s about identity. Modalities like EMDR or CBT can help uncover the obscured drivers behind the compulsion to stay busy. I’ve seen clients realize that their schedules weren’t full because of joy, but because of avoiding deeper issues they had felt helpless to address. Therapy can help gently name what’s underneath, and begin healing it.
Values Check-Ins (Without the Pressure of Perfection): Self-reflection doesn’t have to mean a silent retreat or a life overhaul. Aligning our time with our values is less about having perfect clarity and more about practicing small, honest course corrections. Not a full reset—just a tiny question: Is this in alignment with the life I want to build?

All four above aren’t quick fixes—they’re slow, intentional shifts that ask us to get curious about how we fill our time and why. When we approach our calendars with compassion rather than compulsion, we begin to move from mere scheduling to actual self-stewardship.

Conclusion

Our habit of overbooking isn’t just a time management issue—I think it’s a quiet and insidious response to deeper psychological undercurrents: anxiety, mortality, the ache to matter, to not be left behind. In the increasingly digital age where we’re constantly tethered to devices that whisper more, now, next, comparison is easy–it’s no surprise we try to stay in motion, filling our calendars in an attempt to soothe the unease.

I’ve caught myself doing it too—agreeing to that extra meeting, social event, training, trip, or committing to an event I likely knew would leave me stretched thin. This was not because I wanted to, but because some part of me feared what might be left undone, unseen, unfelt if I didn’t. But each time I slow down, say “no” gently, and choose depth over speed, I remember that space and spontaneity are often where the real living happens.

By becoming curious about the motivations beneath our busyness, we give ourselves the chance to actually reclaim our time—not just as blank slots on a calendar, but as intentional space to rest, reflect, and reconnect with what truly matters. In doing so, we create room not just for ironically more productivity, but for presence. With reflection, I’ve learned that stepping back creates space not just for rest, but for more clarity to arise. Stillness brings clarity (Tolle, 2005). When we slow down and examine what’s driving our urgency, we can begin to choose more intentionally—and in doing so, live more fully.