Rest Like a Rebel: Why the Soft Life Still Feels So Damn Hard
Let’s talk about something no one warns you about when you start unlearning hustle culture: rest guilt.
Even now, after years of therapy and self-work, rest still makes me feel like I’m doing something wrong.
I’ll be lying down—genuinely exhausted—and my brain will whisper that old poison: You should be working. You’re wasting time. You’re falling behind.
It’s not just internal. It’s cultural. We live in a world that worships busyness and treats slowing down like a character flaw. Choosing the soft life? That’s practically a subversive act.
I used to think rest was something you had to earn
Back when I was still trying to prove I was “normal” enough to keep up with a productivity-obsessed world, I saw rest as a luxury. A reward. Something you got after you did everything else: cleared the inbox, made dinner, replied to every text, pushed through every signal your body was sending.
But here’s the thing: the list never ends. The emails don’t stop. And if you live with chronic pain, burnout, trauma, neurodivergence, or literally any human vulnerability, waiting until it’s all done means you’ll never, ever rest.
The soft life; this idea of living gently, of choosing rest and slowness over grind and self-abandonment, isn’t something I just “have.” It’s something I have to actively choose. Every single day.
Some days I choose softness. Some days I don’t.
Some days, I override every signal my body sends. I hustle. I numb out. I spiral. The voice of internalised capitalism tells me I’m lazy, and I believe it.
But on the days I do choose rest?
It changes everything; not in some dramatic, movie-montage kind of way, but in small, sacred shifts.
Like:
Letting myself wake up without rushing or doomscrolling.
Drinking tea without multitasking.
Crying in the bath without apologising to myself.
Watching something light and letting that joy be enough.
These aren’t indulgences. They’re survival. They’re the daily rituals of someone trying to live outside the grind. Someone practising rest as resistance.
Softness isn’t weakness. It’s power in a quieter voice.
We don’t talk enough about how hard it is to choose the soft life in a culture built on overwork. It’s easier to stay busy than to feel. Easier to push through than to sit with what’s underneath.
But every time you choose rest, even when it feels wrong, you’re undoing a little piece of the lie that says your worth is in your output.
You’re reclaiming your humanity.
Maybe the real revolution isn’t about never feeling rest guilt. Maybe it’s about doing it anyway. Choosing softness. Slowing down. Giving yourself care without a justification.
The world doesn’t need more burned-out people who’ve forgotten how to breathe.
It needs people who’ve come home to themselves.
People who say no without a paragraph of explanation.
People who laugh, and cry, and rest, and rage; and don’t apologise for any of it.
Still feel guilty for resting? Yeah. Me too.
You’re not alone. You’re not lazy. You’re just unlearning a system that never had your best interest at heart.
Want to explore this more? Drop a comment below and tell me: What’s your relationship with rest right now? Let’s talk about it. Let’s make softness a conversation, not a secret.
There are days my body feels like a battlefield. Days when getting out of bed is a full-contact sport. Days when nothing fits right, nothing looks right, and my reflection feels like it belongs to someone else — someone heavier, sicker, older, and more broken than the version of myself I still carry around in my head.
If you know that feeling — that deep, gut-punch disconnect between who you are and what you see — then you already know: Body positivity isn’t always about love. Sometimes, it’s just about survival.
Body respect: the version of self-love that doesn’t require a mood ring
For most of my life, I thought body positivity meant waking up every morning, throwing on a bikini, and twirling in front of a mirror, shouting, “I’m a goddess!” (Newsflash: That’s not reality. That’s an Instagram ad.)
When you’re living with chronic illness, disability, trauma, aging, or just…being a human being in an unpredictable body — forcing yourself to “love” everything all the time is another impossible standard. Another stick to beat yourself with.
So I stopped chasing love. I started chasing respect instead.
Feeding my body even when I’m mad at it.
Stretching gently, even when it feels stiff and foreign.
Dressing in clothes that fit me, not the me I “should” be.
Taking rest seriously, not as a guilty secret, but as a freaking necessity.
Speaking to myself like I would to a dear friend who’s fighting hard to stay alive.
It’s not glamorous. It’s not always photogenic. It’s real healing.
The world profits off our self-hate. I’m opting out.
The wellness industry, the beauty industry, even the so-called “body positivity” movement sometimes, they all whisper the same garbage: “If you just try harder, spend more, punish yourself longer — you’ll finally be good enough.”
You know what? I’m tired. And I’m not buying it anymore.
This body — right now, as it is, on its best day and its worst — is good enough. Not because it looks a certain way. Not because it performs a certain way. But because it’s mine. Because it carries me through all of it: the heartbreaks, the flare-ups, the ordinary Tuesdays, and the small, stubborn joys.
That’s worth respecting.
How I endeavour to practice body respect (even when I don’t feel like it)
Here’s what it looks like on a normal, messy Tuesday:
I move when I can, how I can. Sometimes it’s yoga. Sometimes it’s hobbling to the couch. Both are valid.
I feed myself like I deserve nourishment. No punishing diets. No apology meals.
I rest without guilt. Productivity culture can kiss my very tired, very worthy ass.
I set boundaries with media. If my feed makes me hate my body, I unfollow, block, delete, walk away.
I celebrate functionality over appearance. This body digests food. It hugs my people. It lets me laugh until I snort. That matters more than what it looks like.
I’m not aiming for perfect self-love. I’m aiming for loyalty. I’m aiming for partnership. I’m aiming for showing up for myself, even on the days I don’t feel lovable.
Because guess what? Respect doesn’t wait for perfection.
You deserve that too.
You don’t have to earn your own compassion. You don’t have to be “fixed” before you’re allowed to care for yourself.
If you’re breathing, you’re worthy. If you’re fighting, you’re worthy. If you’re just surviving today, you are already doing something extraordinary.
Let’s stop waiting until we feel like we “deserve” to treat ourselves kindly. Let’s just decide — right now — that we do.
Some mornings, everything feels heavy. My body aches. My mind spins. The noise of the world — the pressure, the pain, the never-ending to-do lists — builds up. And then I take my dog, Bugsy, and we walk along the river.
It’s nothing dramatic. No intense cardio. No Instagram-worthy workout gear. Just me, my dog, and the steady rhythm of our steps on a dirt path.
But something happens out there.
The air shifts. The water moves. The world softens.
There’s a kind of quiet that only nature offers — a peaceful hush that holds you. And when I walk with Bugsy, I feel it settle into my bones. My breath deepens. My shoulders relax. My mind lets go, bit by bit. I’m not thinking — I’m just being. And somehow, that resets everything.
It’s movement, yes. But it’s also medicine.
Not the kind that comes in a bottle, but the kind that comes with birdsong, wind in the trees, and a dog who’s just happy to sniff everything.
I come back from those walks feeling more like myself. My sleep improves. My thoughts are clearer. My body — even with MS — feels a little looser, a little more alive. There’s something deeply healing about that kind of movement. No pressure. No performance. Just presence.
And it turns out, there’s science behind why this feels so good. Walking, particularly in natural settings, offers numerous physical and mental health benefits.
The Science Behind Nature Walks:
Research shows that walking in nature, often referred to as “green exercise,” can have a significant impact on reducing stress. A 2010 study published in Environmental Science & Technology found that people who walked in parks experienced lower cortisol levels and improved mood compared to those who walked in urban settings. This is why I always feel a sense of calm after my river walks.
In addition to stress relief, spending time in nature can help lower blood pressure and improve cardiovascular health. The simple act of walking without pressure to perform or achieve allows the body to find a natural rhythm. For those with chronic conditions like MS, this low-impact movement can help reduce muscle stiffness and improve joint mobility, making the body feel more alive.
Furthermore, walking in natural environments has been shown to boost serotonin levels, the “feel-good” neurotransmitter that’s linked to enhanced mood and mental clarity. Studies indicate that even a 20-minute walk outdoors can improve cognitive function and boost mood. The connection with nature also helps regulate our circadian rhythms, contributing to better sleep, which explains why I sleep so well after these riverside walks.
So, if you’re feeling stuck, overwhelmed, or disconnected — try a walk. No destination needed. No fitness tracker required. Just you, the open air, and maybe a four-legged friend.
Sometimes, the simplest movements carry the most profound healing.
Sources:
Thorp, A. A., et al. (2012).Physical activity and cardiovascular disease: The importance of the “free-living” context. Australian & New Zealand Journal of Public Health, 36(4), 343–349. This study discusses how walking and other forms of physical activity, especially those integrated into daily routines (like walking in nature), can have profound benefits for cardiovascular health, including lowering blood pressure. Link to study
Barton, J., & Pretty, J. (2010).What is the best dose of nature and green exercise for improving mental health? Environmental Science & Technology, 44(10), 3947–3952. This study explores how different “doses” of nature, including walking, can improve mental health by reducing stress and boosting mood. Link to study
Van den Berg, A. E., & Custers, M. (2011).Gardening and health: A review of the evidence and implications for the management of stress. Journal of Environmental Psychology, 31(3), 186-196. This article reviews evidence on the health benefits of engaging with nature, including walking, and discusses its potential for reducing stress and improving overall well-being. Link to study
Brown, D. K., Barton, J. L., & Gladwell, V. F. (2013).Viewing nature scenes positively affects recovery of autonomic function following acute mental stress. Environmental Science & Technology, 47(18), 10611-10617. This study shows how exposure to natural environments can positively affect the recovery of autonomic function after mental stress, supporting the claim that walking in nature can enhance mental clarity and emotional well-being. Link to study
You haven’t really tasted life until you’ve eaten something that’s been kissed by flame and flipped by someone who calls everyone “dude”—even their dog. That, dear reader, is the essence of the braai.
I’ve been standing by a fire for over 30 years, tongs in one hand, something cold in the other. And while the smoke’s gotten in my eyes more times than I can count, what it’s really done is clear my head. So let me tell you—braaiing isn’t just a way to cook. It’s therapy. It’s nutrition. It’s an ancient, smoke-scented spell we keep casting, week after week.
Cooking Over Fire: The Real Health Hack
Let’s get one thing straight: braaiing is not some fly-by-night TikTok detox trend involving Himalayan moss and oat milk foam. It’s real food, made real simply.
When you cook meat over fire, you skip the litres of oil, the chemical circus in bottled marinades, and the sadness that comes from boiling a chicken breast into bland oblivion. Braaiing keeps the good stuff where it should be—inside the food. Protein stays intact. Nutrients hold up. And that charred edge? It’s flavour, not a felony.
Plus, you control the ingredients. Grass-fed lamb, hormone-free chicken, budget-friendly veg from the market—if it’s going on your fire, you know exactly what it is. That’s nutrition that doesn’t come with a label you need a PhD to understand.
As dietitian and real-food advocate Thandi Mokoena says: “When you braai, you’re working with fewer ingredients but more intention. It’s whole food, prepared simply, which makes it inherently healthier than many ‘wellness’ meals.”
The Ritual of Fire
But if you think braaiing is just about food, you’ve never really lit a fire.
It starts with that first flame. The whoosh. Then the wait. You have to slow down. There’s no rushing hot coals—it’s nature’s way of forcing us to breathe, chat, sip, and chill. And that, my friend, is where the real magic lies.
Whether it’s just you and your dog on a Tuesday, or a full-on Saturday gathering with seven uninvited cousins and a neighbour who brought his own cooler, the braai is about presence. You’re not scrolling. You’re not pan-frying while checking emails. You’re here—smelling the smoke, listening to the sizzle, maybe arguing about rugby.
According to psychologist and fire-enthusiast Dr. Bryan Petersen: “Fire is grounding. It engages our senses in a way that digital life doesn’t. The crackle, the smell, the warmth—it brings people into the moment. That’s incredibly therapeutic.”
Braaiing as Mental Health Medicine
You could pay R800 for a sound bath or you could light a fire, flip a chop, and listen to the rhythm of crackling wood. No offence to crystal therapy, but the braai’s been sorting us out long before wellness had a hashtag.
There’s actual research showing that outdoor cooking can lower cortisol levels. The scent of wood smoke reduces stress. That simply being outside, involved in a tactile, meaningful task (like coaxing perfect grill marks onto a mushroom) is enough to help recalibrate a frazzled nervous system.
Let me put it like this: It’s self-care, but with boerewors.
Real Food That Hits the Spot
And yes, you can keep it healthy without losing the soul of the braai. Here are a few of my go-to fire-friendly options that taste as good as they’ll make you feel:
• Lamb skewers with veg – Protein, fibre, colour, and that primal joy of eating off a stick. • Grilled aubergine with tahini drizzle – Earthy and rich; even the carnivores will sneak seconds. • Chicken drumsticks in yoghurt, lemon & herbs – Tender, gut-friendly, and way more exciting than plain fillets. • Snoek with mustard & apricot glaze – A coastal classic. Sweet, salty, satisfying. • Garlic-butter portobello mushrooms – Meaty enough for the plant-based crowd, decadent enough for anyone. • Grilled peaches or pineapple with cinnamon – Dessert that doesn’t feel like penance.
Or, as my friend Sipho always says: “If it didn’t need a label in the fridge, it probably belongs on the braai.”
Real Food. Real Fire. Real Connection.
Here’s the thing: we’ve overcomplicated health. We chase green powders and fermented dreams while forgetting that some of the best things we can do for our bodies (and our minds) involve sitting around a fire with people we love, eating food that comes from the earth and not a lab.
The braai is more than a cooking method. It’s a connection ritual, a stress-relief system, and a nutritional win. And if you’re lucky, it becomes memory. A whiff of wood smoke years later, and suddenly you’re back there—laughing at a joke that didn’t need to be funny, watching the sky turn orange, feeling okay.
Because in the end, the fire doesn’t just cook the food. It softens us, too.
What Is Spoon Theory? A Simple Way to Understand Chronic Illness and Fatigue
You’ve probably heard a loved one say, “I don’t have the spoons for that today.” Maybe you nodded along politely. Maybe you were confused.
Let’s break it down — because this little metaphor? It’s a game-changer in understanding what it’s really like to live with chronic illness, chronic pain, or fatigue-based conditions.
Spoon Theory 101: Where It Came From
Spoon Theory was created by Christine Miserandino, a writer and lupus warrior, during a conversation with a friend at a diner. Her friend asked what it was really like to live with a chronic illness.
Christine grabbed spoons from nearby tables and handed them over — twelve of them.
Each spoon, she explained, represented a unit of energy. And unlike healthy people who wake up with an unlimited number of spoons, people with chronic illness wake up with a limited supply.
Getting out of bed? That’s a spoon. Taking a shower? Spoon. Making breakfast? Spoon. Now imagine having only 6 left… and it’s 9 a.m.
Why Spoon Theory Matters
Spoon Theory helps people visualize what it’s like to live in a body that’s constantly budgeting energy. It explains why your chronically ill friend sometimes cancels plans. Or seems “fine” one day, and completely wiped out the next.
It isn’t about being lazy. It isn’t about being unreliable. It’s about managing a limited resource — energy — and trying to survive in a world that expects limitless output.
The Spoon Math of Chronic Illness
Here’s how a typical day might look for someone with chronic fatigue, MS, fibromyalgia, or another invisible illness:
Get dressed = 1 spoon
Make a meal = 2 spoons
Commute or school drop-off = 2 spoons
Work or errands = 3 spoons
Socializing = 2 spoons
Crash in bed by 6 p.m., out of spoons = 0
Now add pain. Add brain fog. Add guilt. Sometimes, even thinking costs a spoon.
What Healthy People Need to Know
They’re Not Making Excuses If someone says, “I don’t have the spoons today,” they’re not blowing you off. They’re out of fuel — and pushing through could mean crashing for days.
“Looking Fine” Doesn’t Mean Feeling Fine Most spoonies become masters of hiding their symptoms. Just because they look okay doesn’t mean they aren’t struggling internally.
Every Spoon Counts Helping with a meal, sending a kind message, or giving them space to rest can make a world of difference. It helps them save spoons for the things that really matter — like staying connected with people they care about.
Spoon Theory Isn’t Just a Metaphor — It’s a Lifeline
For many living with chronic illness, Spoon Theory has given them a language. A way to explain what it feels like to live in a body that doesn’t always cooperate. A way to ask for grace — without having to justify their existence.
If someone you love says they’re “low on spoons,” believe them. Offer support. Offer space. And remember: empathy doesn’t cost a thing.
Want to better support the chronically ill people in your life? Start by listening. Start by learning. And maybe, start by asking: “How many spoons do you have today?”
🥄 How Many Spoons Do Daily Activities Cost?
Understanding the “cost” of everyday tasks can offer valuable insight into the challenges faced by those with chronic illnesses. Here’s a breakdown inspired by the Burning Nights CRPS article:
1 Spoon Activities: 🥄
Getting out of bed
Brushing your teeth
Taking medication
Watching TV for an hour
Washing your hair
Listening to music
2 Spoon Activities: 🥄🥄
Making breakfast
Taking a shower (note: for some, this might require 3 spoons)
Drying and styling hair
Brushing hair
Managing daily or weekly medications
Reading
Studying for an hour
Making a phone call
3 Spoon Activities: 🥄🥄🥄
Cooking a meal
Light housework
Meeting a friend at home
Driving somewhere
Folding laundry
Caring for pets
Attending a medical appointment
Climbing stairs
4 Spoon Activities: 🥄🥄🥄🥄
Going to work
Attending school
Shopping
Seeing a specialist (especially with long waiting times)
Waiting for and using public transport
Ironing
Taking care of children
5 Spoon Activities: 🥄🥄🥄🥄🥄
Going out for coffee or a meal
Gardening
Studying and attending lectures/classes
Participating in social events with friends
It’s important to note that these values can vary based on individual circumstances and the nature of one’s chronic illness. Factors like flare-ups or particularly challenging days can increase the “spoon cost” of these activities.
🔄 Restoring Spoons: Self-Care and Recovery
While rest is a primary way to regain energy, individuals with chronic illnesses often find that certain activities can help replenish their spoons:
Mindfulness meditation
Listening to or reading positive affirmations
Engaging in relaxation techniques
Practicing yoga or chair yoga
Journaling
Adult colouring or Zentangle
Breathing exercises
Pursuing hobbies or listening to podcasts
Listening to music
Getting a massage
Taking a nap
Laughing
Spending time in nature or simply sitting by an open window
Remember, self-care isn’t selfish. It’s a necessary component of managing chronic illness.
No one tells you how exhausting it is to be polite about being chronically ill.
No one warns you that one of the hardest parts won’t be the symptoms — it’ll be the explaining, the justifying, the pretending-you’re-fine smile you glue to your face at doctor’s offices, family dinners, and the school gate.
Living with chronic illness doesn’t look like a movie montage. It looks like the same unwashed hair three days in a row. It looks like forgetting words mid-sentence. It looks like cancelling — again — and hating yourself for it.
That Chronic Fatigue? It’s Not Tired. It’s Poisoned.
Chronic fatigue isn’t just being tired. It’s body-in-concrete exhaustion that makes brushing your teeth feel like a marathon. It’s lying in bed hurting from doing nothing. And still, you explain it like you’re “just run down” because people don’t understand what this kind of fatigue actually is. Experts say that for the average person to understand what chronic fatigue feels like, they would need to stay awake for three days straight and then attempt to continue with life as though nothing is wrong.
You Become an Expert at Smiling Through Chronic Pain
You learn to say “I’m fine” while your joints are on fire and your head feels like it’s splitting in two. Because being visibly sick makes people uncomfortable. So, like many living with an invisible illness, you become a master at hiding your truth.
You Feel Guilty All the Time
Guilty for being ill. Guilty for cancelling. Guilty for being “negative.” Guilt becomes your shadow — especially in a world that expects constant productivity. And chronic illness doesn’t come with sick leave for your emotions. It certainly doesn’t give you sick leave for being sick.
You Lose Friends — and You Blame Yourself
Some people slowly drift when you stop being “fun.” Others disappear completely the moment you need support. You start to wonder if you’re just too much — when really, they just weren’t equipped to stay.
Your Body Becomes a Full-Time Job
Living with chronic illness means appointments, test results, meds, insurance, symptom tracking. You become your own medical manager. And half the time, doctors still shrug and say, “We don’t really know.” Ironically, chronically ill people develop skills that could run circles around the top CEOs; we just don’t have the bodies to be able to do the job.
You Start to Doubt Yourself
When your labs come back “normal,” when a doctor dismisses your symptoms, when people say “but you look great” — you begin to gaslight yourself. You wonder if it’s all in your head. This is the quiet cruelty of misunderstood chronic illness.
You Become Fierce in Ways You Never Expected
You stop people-pleasing. Believe me. This is one of the first changes you’ll experience. You learn how to say no, how to rest, how to speak up. Your survival depends on this. Chronic illness teaches you how to be soft and strong — even on the days you’re barely holding it together.
You’re Not Weak — You’re Living a Life Most People Couldn’t Handle
Being chronically ill every day is hard. It’s unseen, often misunderstood, and deeply personal. But you’re not alone. There’s nothing wrong with you. And you are more than your diagnosis.
You’re just learning how to carry the weight of your reality — and that’s a strength no one talks about enough.
