🛌 Rest Isn’t Laziness: Relearning How to Slow Down

☁️The Lie of "Earning Rest"

We see it everywhere—that unspoken rule that we have to earn our rest.
At work, at school, at the gym, even at home—there’s always this expectation that whatever we’re doing should be productive. That it should lead to something. Generate something. Be useful in some visible, measurable way.

We’re told to optimize our lives, not live them.
And if we’re not grinding or performing or turning every hobby into a side hustle, then we’re somehow falling behind.

Once, a man I used to work with complimented a headband I had crocheted and asked if I had an Etsy shop. When I told him, “No, crochet is just a hobby,” he looked… surprised. Confused, even. As if it hadn’t occurred to him that I might do something just because I enjoy it—not because I was trying to make money from it.

That moment stuck with me.
Because the truth is, it’s not just hobbies we feel pressured to monetize or justify.
It’s rest too.

We’re constantly being sold the idea that rest is a reward.
That we have to do enough before we’re allowed to slow down.

But what if that’s a lie?
What if rest isn’t something to earn—what if it’s something we’re always allowed to choose?

🔥 Burnout Is Not a Personality Trait

I’ve spent a lot of time in spaces where burnout wasn’t just common—it was how we bonded.
In college, everyone was juggling too much. Multiple jobs. Impossible course loads. Constant pressure to perform.

Music school made it worse.
I don’t think I know a single person in my program who was taking fewer than 17 units per semester—including myself. And yet, music is still widely considered an “easy” major. But those days were anything but.

There literally wasn’t time to rest.
Classes started at 7 a.m. and ran all day.
Evenings were for rehearsals.
And somehow, in the middle of all of that, we were still expected to hold down part-time jobs just to keep the lights on.

And that doesn’t even include the extracurriculars.

I was active in my sorority—doing volunteer work, sitting on committees, going to meetings, showing up to events. I did it all.
And I was exhausted—all the time.
But that was normal. That was what you were supposed to do to get ahead.

Then I graduated.

I landed a full-time job almost overnight and went from making less than $20K a year to around $50K.
And I know that makes me lucky.
It wasn’t in my field—not even close—but I had a real job, with real pay, and real benefits.
On paper, I had made it.
But what no one tells you is that survival mode doesn’t shut off just because your paycheck gets bigger.

I was still struggling to make rent.
Still buried under the belief that if I wasn’t working toward some goal—some version of success—then I wasn’t doing enough.
Rest wasn’t rest.
It was laziness. Guilt. A missed opportunity.

Until I hit a wall.

And then there was no productivity.
Just silence.

I’d melt into the couch and watch Bluey because it was the only thing my brain could process.
I cried a lot.
Food became a chore.
I lived off takeout because the idea of cooking, of planning, of trying, felt unbearable.

Burnout wasn’t just a phase—it became my baseline.
And I didn’t even know it until I was already deep in it.

🌿 Redefining Productivity on My Own Terms

Three big girl jobs later, I’m still learning what balance actually feels like.

For most of my adult life, I’ve swung between burnout and guilt—working too much, resting too little, then completely crashing when I couldn’t keep up. And when I finally did slow down, the voice in my head would whisper, you should be doing something.

Why wasn’t I learning a new skill?
Why wasn’t I meal prepping or deep-cleaning my apartment or reorganizing my closet?
Why wasn’t I using this time “better”?

I’m still unlearning the lie that productivity equals worth.
That rest has to be earned.
That doing nothing means I’ve failed somehow.

It doesn’t. It never did.

The truth is—rest isn’t lazy.
It isn’t selfish or indulgent.
It’s necessary. It’s nourishing.
It’s the thing that actually helps me show up in my life with clarity, creativity, and care.

I’m not trying to optimize my downtime anymore.
I’m trying to feel good in it.

And the thing is—rest doesn’t look the same for everyone.

For me, rest is yoga.
It’s curling up with a book.
It’s going on slow little adventures around town with no real agenda.
It’s making music with my partner and friends.
It’s sketching something that no one else will see.
It’s crocheting a blanket while binge-watching Grey’s Anatomy for the hundredth time.

Rest is quiet joy.
It’s making time for the things that make me feel like myself—without needing to turn them into something productive or impressive.

And when I can be mindful about that—when I treat rest as something intentional, not just something that happens when I’ve hit a wall—it becomes so much more powerful.

It becomes a return.

A return to softness.
A return to wholeness.
A return to me.

✨ Letting Rest Be Sacred

The biggest shift for me has been moving from allowing rest to actually honoring it.

It’s not just something I squeeze in when I’ve burned myself out again.
It’s something I try to hold space for—on purpose.

Rest, for me, is no longer about escape.
It’s a ritual.

It’s lighting a candle before bed, even if the room’s already dark.
It’s playing soft music while I clean, not to be productive, but to make the moment gentler.
It’s curling up under a blanket that I made, sipping tea that I took the time to steep, reading a book just because I want to—not because it’ll make me smarter or better.

It’s saying: this small thing matters, because I matter.

Rest isn’t the absence of effort—it’s a shift in energy.
It’s stillness with intention.
It’s a refusal to keep pouring from a cup that’s been empty for weeks.

And sure, some days it still feels hard.
Some days my brain tells me I haven’t “done enough” to deserve a break.
But I’m getting better at responding to that voice with kindness.
With a breath.
With the reminder that I don’t need to be depleted to be worthy of care.

This kind of rest isn’t performative.
It isn’t curated.
It’s not aesthetic.

It’s mine.
And that makes it sacred.

🌙 The Time That’s Mine

My time outside of work is limited—so it’s sacred.
How I choose to spend it isn’t just a scheduling decision, it’s a reflection of my values.
It’s a reflection of me.

And I’m done treating that time like it only matters if I use it to be productive.
I’m done filling it with guilt and should-haves and overexertion.

Because when I protect my rest, I’m also protecting my energy.
When I recharge fully, I can show up more clearly, more kindly, more present in the moments that need me most.

I’m learning that soft doesn’t mean passive.
And rest doesn’t mean I’ve stopped caring.

It means I’m caring better.
It means I’m remembering that I get to be a person—not just a task list.

So if you’ve been waiting for permission to slow down…
This is it.

You don’t have to earn your stillness.

You’re allowed to rest just because you’re tired.
Because you want to.
Because you’re human.

This week’s mantra:
“I do not have to earn rest. I am allowed to be still.”