The Quiet Inheritance of Urgency
I grew up with a sense of urgency that felt so normal, I didn’t even know it had a name. It wasn’t dramatic. It was just… how things were done. That tiny realization cracked open a much bigger one about how deeply urgency lives in my body.
“Do you want to go get ice cream?” Sure, but tucked inside that sweet, innocent question was an unspoken understanding.
Right now. Immediately. Shoes on. Let’s go.
There was no lingering. No consideration. No, “Maybe later.” Later was suspicious. Later implied a missed opportunity. Later felt like failure. My brain would literally envision an operating room where the doctors are yelling, “We’re gonna lose him!” if I did not act immediately upon invitation. Yeah, it was that kind of implied urgency.
At the time, I chalked it up to being a New York thing. Even though I grew up an hour north of Manhattan, the fast sidewalks, fast talkers and fast decisions overflowed into parts of Westchester. It was efficiency masquerading as virtue, and still is.
Then my sister went to college. And met Susan. Susan — a non-urgent person from Flushing, Queens. (Which still cracks me up, because if urgency were geographic, she should’ve been one of us.)
Susan noticed it immediately. Not judgmentally, but humorously. She’d laugh when we moved too fast. When we packed up early. When everything was suddenly a thing. Eventually, it became a running joke. Anytime there was anywhere to go or anything to do, one of us would dramatically announce:
“WE GOTTA GO NOW!”
It was funny because it was true. And also because someone outside our family finally named it.
Growing Up Inside the Tension
Urgency, when you grow up with it, doesn’t feel like stress.
It feels like preparedness. Responsibility. Being on top of things.
But it creates a low grade tension you don’t notice until you leave the environment that created it.
You start meeting people who don’t rush.
Who pause mid-sentence.
Who don’t treat every plan like it might evaporate if not executed immediately.
And suddenly, you see yourself… not through shame, but contrast. That’s the beauty of new people. They expose our behaviors, the good and the questionable.
Some of mine reflected back things like:
• Why are you always early?
• Why does everything feel time sensitive?
• Why does “no rush” make you twitch?
(Valid questions, honestly.)
Urgency: Helpful… Until It Isn’t
Here’s the part where I don’t want to villainize urgency. Because some urgency is just being a good citizen. Returning your shopping cart. Knowing your drive-thru order before getting up to the speaker. Responding when someone is waiting on you. Showing up on time. Not treating everyone else’s time like it’s optional. That kind of urgency? Gold star. Responsible adult behavior.
But there’s another kind, the inherited kind.
The kind that taps you on the shoulder:
• Move faster.
• Decide quicker.
• Don’t pause.
• Don’t inconvenience.
• Don’t waste time.
Even when no one is asking you to rush.
That’s not politeness. That’s a form of conditioning.
What I Learned From Non-Urgent People
Marrying my husband, a man with zero sense of urgency, forced the issue into full view. He is steady. Consistent. Unbothered.
Nothing is on fire unless it’s actually on fire. And living next to that nervous-system neutrality made me realize something uncomfortable: A lot of my urgency wasn’t about efficiency, it was about control. (ugh, that “c” word still makes me uncomfortable to admit). If I move fast enough, nothing can catch me. If I decide quickly, I don’t have to sit with uncertainty. If I keep things moving, I don’t have to feel what’s underneath. That realization didn’t come with judgment. It came with a long exhale. Why am I doing this? It’s totally unnecessary!
I recently noticed I brush my teeth like I’m being timed. Like, somewhere there’s a scoreboard, and I’m trying to beat my personal best.
Nothing is happening.
No one is waiting.
There is no prize.
And yet… urgency.
The Gentle Part
I don’t totally believe urgency is a flaw. It’s often a survival skill that outlived its original job. But recognizing it and noticing when your body reacts before your mind gives you choice.
Not to become slower.
Not to become passive.
Just… more intentional.
Because not everything needs to happen right now. And when it does? You’ll know the difference.
