At 25, I believed rest was a reward—something you earned after grinding hard enough to justify the pause. It came after the work, after the long hours, after you’d proven yourself worthy of stepping back.
I wore my exhaustion like a badge of honor. I was proud of the late nights, the hustle, and the blurred boundaries between ambition and burnout. Rest felt like a luxury I couldn’t afford, and stopping felt dangerously close to losing momentum—or worse, appearing like I wasn’t trying hard enough.
But I’ve learned a lot since then.
Rest isn’t something you wait to deserve. It’s the very thing that makes it possible to keep showing up—consistently, meaningfully—without losing yourself along the way.
Rest Isn’t Lazy—It’s Maintenance
There was a shift somewhere in my understanding. I stopped seeing rest as passive and started recognizing it for what it is: active recovery. Rest is how we process, replenish, and integrate. It’s not a detour from progress—it’s part of the route.
It’s the body and brain working behind the scenes to heal, absorb, and prepare for whatever comes next. And that’s not laziness. That’s strategy. That’s design.
We accept that a car needs oil changes, that a phone needs recharging. And yet, I used to expect myself to run on empty without consequence. I thought I could keep performing at a high level without pausing to refuel. That belief wasn’t resilience—it was unsustainable.
Rest Doesn’t Always Look Like Sleep
One of the more surprising things I’ve learned is how many shapes rest can take. Sleep matters, of course, but it’s only part of the picture.
Rest can look like time without performance pressure. It can mean saying no, even when part of you feels guilty for not saying yes. Sometimes it’s a walk with no destination and no phone. Other times, it’s the uncomfortable stretch of silence that forces you to actually hear yourself.
Rest is space—space between thoughts, between decisions, between expectations. It’s in that space that your nervous system gets a chance to exhale.
You Often Don’t Know You’re Depleted Until You Finally Stop
This was one of the hardest lessons for me to learn.
I had a habit of pushing myself until my body made the decision for me. I didn’t recognize overstimulation until I felt the contrast of stillness. I didn’t realize how much noise I was carrying until I finally stepped into quiet.
Stillness reveals things—sometimes things we’d rather avoid. But avoidance comes at a cost. Now, I try to meet what comes up in the stillness, even when it’s uncomfortable. Especially then.
Rest Is a Skill—Not a Sign of Weakness
True rest takes practice.
It’s not about zoning out or numbing yourself with scrolling. It’s not about checking out. Rest is intentional. It asks for boundaries. It demands trust—trust that things will keep moving without you for a while, that you won’t fall behind by listening to what your body needs, that your value isn’t measured by how much you produce.
At 25, I was too busy trying to be enough for every room I walked into. I didn’t know how to protect my own capacity, let alone prioritize it.
Now I do.
I’ve come to understand that the real work isn’t proving your worth. It’s preserving your ability to stay present, engaged, and well.
Final Thought
I don’t glorify burnout anymore. I no longer confuse busyness with importance. I’ve stopped trying to outrun my fear of not being enough.
Today, rest is part of my strength. It’s how I stay creative. It’s how I stay healthy. It’s how I stay whole.
And that’s something I never want to forget again.
