There’s a woman who lives across the street from me. From my bedroom window, I have a regular view of her feet perched on a stool, presumably in front of the TV. As I spot her feet, I wonder what she’s watching, how she managed to carve that time for herself and how relaxed she must feel.

My feet are rarely perched – always in some hurry – and the moment they do stop, I’m left with this sinking feeling: “I should be doing more.”

I’m jealous of the woman across the street – not because she has fewer demands than I do, or because I even want to watch TV, but because she allows herself to stop.

Over the years, the notion of free time has evolved. The Greeks viewed it as the pursuit of leisurely activities, while the Romans saw it as a time of recuperation. What has remained a constant is the principle that free time stands in contrast to work. Psychotherapist Laura Patterson defines ‘free time’ as “time away from the constant demands you have on your time”. It denotes a sense of freedom – an opportunity to escape the daily grind and, in the words of Patterson, “a chance to simply ‘be’.”

Free time also offers a host of benefits for our health, yet many people view leisure as wasteful and unproductive. It’s no surprise that those who hold this belief report lower levels of happiness.

I believed free time was important, but I had fallen into the trap of thinking I was starved of time and could not afford to free any of it. While the term ‘time affluence’ describes the sense that you have time to spare, ‘time famine’ represents the feeling of not having enough time. The latter led me to believe I had to maximise every waking hour. I was driven to anxiety by thoughts of “how can I make the most of this time?”

How to manage free-time anxiety and just ‘be’