Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes, including you. — Anne Lamott
—What lingers after this line?
One-minute reflection
What feeling does this quote bring up for you?
A Simple Metaphor With Real Weight
Anne Lamott’s line begins with an ordinary troubleshooting tip—unplug the device, wait, then try again—but it quickly widens into a humane philosophy. The charm is in its everyday accuracy: many glitches are solved not by force, but by pausing long enough for a system to reset. By adding “including you,” Lamott shifts the focus from machines to the nervous system, implying that people, too, can become overloaded and behave like frozen screens. This metaphor works because it removes shame. Instead of framing exhaustion as a personal failure, it treats it as a predictable condition of being “on” for too long. From that starting point, the quote invites a gentler question: what if recovery is less about fixing yourself and more about powering down long enough to come back online?
Overload, Not Weakness
Building on that metaphor, “unplugging” reframes stress as an accumulation problem rather than a character problem. When demands stack up—notifications, deadlines, conflict, caretaking—attention fragments and small tasks start to feel disproportionately hard. In this light, snapping at someone or making clumsy decisions can resemble a device running too many processes at once. Seen this way, stepping away isn’t indulgence; it’s maintenance. Lamott’s humor also matters here, because humor lowers defensiveness. It’s easier to accept that you need a reset when it’s presented as normal, even slightly funny, rather than as a stern command to practice self-care. The joke lands, and then the truth follows: depleted people don’t think clearly, and clarity often returns only after disengagement.
The Power of a Brief Pause
From overload, the quote moves naturally to a practical solution: a few minutes can change the whole system. The phrase “for a few minutes” is crucial because it doesn’t demand a retreat from life; it asks for a modest interruption. A short walk, sitting in a parked car, closing a laptop and staring out the window—these are small unplugging rituals that create a gap between stimulus and response. In that gap, the body downshifts. Breathing slows, the mind stops chasing the next input, and problems often become more proportionate. Many people recognize this anecdotally: an email that felt infuriating at 11:58 can read as merely annoying after lunch. Lamott suggests that the reset button is not a dramatic reinvention but a temporary release from constant engagement.
Unplugging as a Boundary Practice
Once you accept that a pause restores function, the next step is realizing that unplugging is also a boundary. It is a decision to be unreachable for long enough to regain steadiness. In a culture that rewards immediacy, even minor disconnection can feel like disobedience; yet Lamott frames it as the most rational way to become useful again. This boundary can be external—silencing the phone, leaving the room, turning off news—or internal, such as refusing to rehearse a conversation in your head for the tenth time. Importantly, “unplugging” is not avoidance when it’s paired with return. The goal is not to disappear from responsibilities but to come back capable of meeting them without the distortion that fatigue brings.
Returning With More Humanity
After the pause, what changes is not only performance but temperament. Unplugging tends to restore patience, perspective, and the ability to interpret others more generously. In other words, it repairs relational functioning, not just productivity. A person who is reset is more likely to apologize, listen, and choose a response rather than react. Lamott’s final twist—“including you”—also carries compassion: you are not a machine, yet you deserve the same basic troubleshooting courtesy you grant your devices. If a laptop that overheats gets rest without moral judgment, then a tired mind deserves it too. The line gently argues that recovering your best self often requires nothing heroic—just the willingness to step away long enough to reboot.
Making the Reset a Habit
Finally, the quote implies a sustainable practice: don’t wait for total malfunction. If unplugging works, it can be scheduled before the freeze—micro-breaks between meetings, a screen-free first hour, or a daily walk that marks the end of work. These small intervals act like preventative maintenance, reducing the buildup that makes life feel unmanageable. Over time, such habits teach a subtle form of self-trust: when you feel frayed, you know what to do. Lamott’s message is that restoration is accessible and repeatable. You don’t need perfect circumstances; you need permission to pause. And with that permission, much of what felt broken can begin to work again.