@caroline1

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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