When it comes to those rare moments of quiet, whether you’ve just completed an essay or you’re sitting in your room after a long day of contact hours — why does it still feel impossible to just ‘chill’? I am definitely not claiming that I am constantly productive; you will still certainly find me watching the latest season of Bridgerton (disappointing) or taking a midday nap. But these times of peace don’t sit comfortably with me, as the looming guilt of all the countless productive tasks I could be completing hangs over me.

I’ve spoken to many of my friends at other universities around the UK and I’m always jealous of their less densely packed workloads. Their 12-week terms permit them whole days to relax and socialise, and their Monday-Friday schedules allow them real weekends. Cambridge students could only dream of such luxury. However, we did choose this life (even if we weren’t entirely aware of what it entailed). Clearly, somewhere within us we must enjoy working – otherwise we wouldn’t have applied to this institution. But I didn’t realise that signing myself up to rigorous education came at the cost of losing relaxation.

“Cambridge does not only create this culture, it legitimises it”

This guilt isn’t accidental, nor is it entirely self-inflicted, but rather it is reinforced by the culture around us. Whether it be in the LinkedIn posts celebrating ‘5am starts’ or in the bombardment of productivity TikToks that infiltrate your feed, instantly making you feel irresponsible for snoozing your alarm that morning whilst other students have already completed a half-marathon and won a Nobel Prize. This may be an exaggeration, but this is how our perception of time in Cambridge is warped. When everyone around you is listing their remarkable ‘to-do’ lists, being overwhelmed becomes a status symbol, and the idea of an ‘early night’ feels embarrassing.

Cambridge does not only create this culture, it legitimises it. When your workload is objectively intense, and the deadlines start piling up, the idea that you should be doing more starts to feel rational rather than excessive. This is not only limited to essays or problem sheets – this mindset bleeds into everyday life until rest starts to feel like failure. We haven’t just lost relaxation but a sense of self that exists outside of ‘productivity’.

“There is a quiet resistance in just existing without the pressure of productivity”

What is perhaps the most disturbing is how quickly the mindset becomes internalised. We begin to operate in a form of self-surveillance, constantly ensuring that our time is spent wisely. Even in moments of rest, your internal voice is still reminding you of everything else you could be doing, as if relaxation required justification. As a generation we love to promote ‘self-care,’ but in reality we are unable to indulge in something without defending our time or disguising it as productive.

This is a wide generalisation, and not every student will operate in the same way, but it is undeniable that Cambridge has a culture that places high pressure on its students — thus our time has to be used effectively. In saying this, an uncomfortable question is raised: do we really want to solve this problem? If hard work and moments of burnout allow us to achieve high grades, then what is the issue? I can’t pretend I have a clear answer to this, because I’m also a victim of this mentality. If anyone does have a cure, then please do let me know. However, fundamentally, the inability to spend time, even briefly, doing nothing is unsustainable. It is essential and natural to have alone time with your thoughts, and the ability to reconnect with yourself outside of academia and social circles is necessary to build a better relationship with yourself — and others.

Perhaps the issue is not that we work too hard, but that we have lost the ability to value time that has no measurable outcome. There is a quiet resistance in just existing without the pressure of productivity, and I believe one of the most rewarding skills we can learn at university is how to prioritise our personal wellbeing in surroundings that expect you to constantly perform. Maybe the only way we can experience genuine freedom is by letting go of that inner voice… and doing nothing.