@calliopel

I used to think stopping meant failing — like if I wasn’t grinding, I was falling behind. Burnout hit hard: headaches, numbness, forgetting why I even started. The guilt was louder than exhaustion. What changed? A therapist asked me, “Who told you your worth depends on output?” I had no answer. So I started small — 10 minutes of doing nothing, then 30, then whole afternoons. At first, my chest tightened like I was stealing time. But slowly, the quiet didn’t feel like loss — it felt like repair. I learned rest isn’t earned; it’s required. Now, when guilt creeps in, I remind myself: trees don’t apologize for shedding leaves in winter. Neither should I. My value isn’t tied to productivity. Healing isn’t lazy — it’s the only thing that lets me show up fully later. Still hard sometimes. But now, stillness doesn’t scare me. It saves me.

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