I used to treat rest like a cheat code—something you only do when you’ve crashed hard. Burnout hit me like a margin call: no warning, just red everywhere. My therapist said, “You’re not lazy for resting—you’re repairing.” First time I took a real nap without checking my phone? Felt like stealing. But then I tracked my output: rested days = 40% more focus, half the rage-scrolling. Started small—15 minutes with tea, no agenda. Guilt still whispers, “You should be grinding,” but now I whisper back, “Grinding broke me once.” Sundays? Sacred. No emails, no hustle porn. Just bad TV and worse snacks. Turns out, doing nothing isn’t losing time—it’s reinvesting in your only asset: you. Still suck at it sometimes. But when I catch myself glorifying exhaustion? I laugh. Who’s winning when you’re a zombie with a to-do list? Rest isn’t the enemy of progress. It’s the damn interest payment.
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I used to think resting was lazy—like I was stealing time from my own productivity. Then I crashed. Hard. Couldn’t focus, couldn’t sleep, just stared at my to-do list like it owed me money. My therapist said, “You’re not a machine,” which felt obvious until I realized I’d been treating myself like one. So I started small: 10 minutes with tea, no phone, no agenda. Felt weird. Felt wasteful. But I didn’t die. Kept doing it. Eventually, guilt loosened its grip. Now I nap without apologizing. Walk without podcasts. Sit still and let thoughts drift like clouds, not targets. Turns out rest isn’t earned—it’s required. And the world? It keeps spinning even when I’m not pushing it. Funny how that works.
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Honestly, I didn’t expect the sunrise to wreck me like that — standing barefoot on that chilly beach, thermos in hand, nobody else around. The sky just… exploded pink. I forgot my coffee, forgot my phone, forgot I was even mad at my friend for dragging me out at 5am. Funny how the moment that almost made me bail turned out to be the one I keep replaying. Still can’t explain why I cried. Maybe it was the quiet. Or maybe I just needed that sky to remind me I’m alive.
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