The long, deflated breath you let out when you finally sit down: spine slack, eyelids twitching, coffee gone cold beside you. The breath that says I’ve had enough, even when your to-do list screams more. And then, like clockwork, comes the guilt.
Shouldn’t you be doing something?
Something productive. Something useful. Something Instagrammable. Something heroic. Something that makes you look less… weak?
Rest, in this world, is framed as failure unless it’s earned. And even then, only just.
The Hustle is a Cult, and We’re All in It
We live in a culture where burnout is a badge of honour. Where busy-ness is virtue, exhaustion is currency, and rest is treated like dessert, a sugary reward after you’ve swallowed the meat and bones of your suffering.
But here’s the uncomfortable truth: rest is not a reward. It’s a right.
And yet most of us, especially those who care for others, live with chronic conditions, juggle invisible workloads, or simply exist in survival mode, don’t believe we’ve earned it. We need to be told. Given permission. Prescribed it like paracetamol.
I still catch myself apologising for needing rest. I soften the language. I say, “I’m just going to lie down for a minute,” instead of “I’m shutting the world out because I’m completely depleted.” I say “I’m tired” instead of “I’m in pain.” I say nothing at all and power through, because who wants to be the fragile one?
It’s a scam. And it’s killing us slowly.
The History We Inherited (And Didn’t Ask For)
We didn’t create this culture of grind. We inherited it: a system shaped by generations of economic pressure, industrial ideals, and a culture that confuses rest with laziness.
Historically, rest wasn’t just discouraged, it was denied. To the enslaved. The poor. The working class. Productivity was a measure of compliance. Rest was resistance.
Today, even self-care has been co-opted. It’s no longer about replenishing the soul, it’s about selling face masks and bath bombs to the already burnt out. Even our downtime is expected to be photogenic.
And if you live with a chronic illness? Rest becomes your entire life, and somehow still, people expect you to justify it. To prove you’re not just lazy, flaky, or attention-seeking.
Rest is Resistance
Audre Lorde said it best: “Caring for myself is not self-indulgence; it is self-preservation.”
Rest is not about quitting. It’s about surviving a system that rewards overextension and punishes stillness. It’s about reclaiming softness in a world that demands sharp edges. It’s about trusting your body over your inbox.
Rest is how we remember we’re human.
What Rest Actually Looks Like (Spoiler: Not Always Pretty)
Let’s get something straight: rest isn’t always wrapped in silk pajamas with lo-fi beats in the background. Sometimes rest is ugly. Messy. Loud. Sometimes it’s:
Crying in the bath until your sinuses are clear.
Saying “no” without offering an excuse.
Sleeping in clothes that aren’t pajamas because that’s all you could manage.
Letting the dishes wait.
Cancelling plans, even with people you love.
Turning off your phone.
Doing nothing, not meditating, not manifesting, not improving yourself. Just… nothing.
Real rest is not aesthetic. It’s sacred.
You Don’t Need Permission, But Here It Is Anyway
If you need someone to say it, let me be the voice:
You are allowed to rest. Not because you worked hard enough. Not because you’re falling apart. Not because you ticked every box. But because you are a living being. And living beings need rest.
No one questions a dog for napping in the sun. No one asks a tree to bloom year-round. But somehow, you, with your spiralling inbox and shrinking patience and bones that ache when it rains, are expected to keep going like a machine.
You are not a machine. You are not a machine. You are not a machine.
Let the World Wait
The revolution isn’t in the doing. It’s in the being. It’s in saying, “Not today, thanks.” It’s in horizontal activism; in naps, in stillness, in choosing slowness when the world demands speed.
Rest isn’t the opposite of action. It’s what allows us to continue.
So lie down. Log off. Let the world wait.
It can handle itself for a while.
And if it can’t? That’s not your fault either.
Tell me…
Do you struggle with guilt when you rest?
What’s one way you’re reclaiming rest in your own life?
Should we start a nap revolution?
Let’s talk in the comments, but only after your nap.
A journey of learning to embrace life with compassion and care for myself.
When I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis (MS) in January of 2023, my focus was anything but myself. Providing for my household, caring for my children, caring for my patients (I’m a Registered Nurse), and securing a home for my disabled mom were a few of my top priorities. I had no real concept of self-love. I refused to accept the diagnosis for a full year, trying to live life as I always had. This was until one day, as I struggled to climb the stairs at work after a 12-hour shift, it dawned on me that I was fighting my very own body instead of working with my body to fight MS. I had to learn to love myself enough to set boundaries and care for my vessel as much as I did others.
Self-love involves accepting yourself fully, treating yourself with kindness, and prioritizing your own well-being. For those of us with a diagnosis of MS, practicing self-love is essential in coping with the physical and emotional challenges provoked by MS. Here are a few ways I practice self-love.
1. Cultivating a Positive Mindset
Living with MS can be overwhelming, but adopting a positive mindset can help navigate the journey with resilience and hope. Embracing self-love encourages a shift in focus from limitations to possibilities, fostering a sense of empowerment and optimism.
2. Managing Stress Effectively
Stress can exacerbate MS symptoms, making it crucial to develop healthy coping mechanisms. Self-love practices such as mindfulness, meditation, and deep breathing can reduce stress levels, promoting relaxation and calmness.
3. Prioritizing Physical Health
Self-love involves taking proactive steps to maintain physical health. Regular exercise, a balanced diet, and adequate rest are vital components of managing MS. Listening to my body and responding to its needs with compassion was most difficult but lead to improved overall well-being.
4. Nurturing Emotional Well-Being
MS can take an emotional toll, leading to feelings of frustration, anger, sadness, depression, and anxiety. Self-love encourages individuals to acknowledge and honor their emotions without judgment. I went through the entire grieving process before embarking on my journey to self-love.
5. Setting Realistic Goals
Self-love involves setting realistic and achievable goals that align with our individual abilities and circumstances. Celebrating small victories and progress creates a sense of accomplishment and motivation, contributing to a positive outlook on life.
6. Practicing Self-Care
Self-care is a fundamental aspect of self-love. Engaging in activities that bring joy, relaxation, and fulfilment can enhance mental and emotional health. I like to do activities in my garden, such as yoga, reading, and meditation. I’ve also become more in tune with nature, taking more walks and appreciating its beauty. Listening to music, dancing, and indulging in self-care nurture the soul and promote balance.
Living with multiple sclerosis is undoubtedly challenging, but the practice of self-love offers a powerful tool for navigating our journeys with grace and resilience. By embracing self-love, I have a sense of empowerment, hope, and well-being, transforming my experience into one of growth and self-discovery.
Hi, I’m Nicole. I’m a mom to 3 and registered nurse by profession. I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis in January of 2023 after a case of optic neuritis, which led to vision loss in my left eye. I recall experiencing symptoms of MS as early as 2016. I now use my knowledge as a RN as well as my experiences as a MS Warrior to educate, uplift, and bring awareness to the “rare” autoimmune disease known as Multiple Sclerosis.
It’s 2:47 a.m. and I’m scrolling through Instagram, watching strangers toast champagne in Santorini, cuddle golden retrievers, and post “raw” captions that somehow still feel filtered. I’m not sad, exactly. But I’m not okay, either. I’m lonely. And I know I’m not alone in that.
In a world where we can FaceTime across oceans and “like” a hundred photos before breakfast, why do so many of us feel so disconnected? The answer is messy, layered, and deeply human if we’re brave enough to look.
The Digital Age: More Screens, Fewer Souls
We were promised connection. Instead, we got curated highlight reels and dopamine loops. A 2025 Baylor University study found that both passive scrolling and active posting on social media were linked to increased feelings of loneliness over time. Even when we’re engaging, we’re often left feeling emptier than before.
It’s not just the quantity of our interactions that’s changed, it’s the quality. We’ve traded deep conversations for comment threads, shared silences for typing indicators. And in doing so, we’ve lost something vital.
The Health Toll: Loneliness as a Silent Epidemic
Loneliness isn’t just a feeling; it’s a health crisis. The U.S. Surgeon General has equated the health risks of chronic loneliness to smoking 15 cigarettes a day. It increases the risk of heart disease, stroke, dementia, and premature death.
Mental health suffers, too. Lonely individuals are more prone to depression, anxiety, and suicidal ideation. The emotional pain of isolation can be as real and as damaging as physical pain.
The Vicious Cycle: Social Media and Loneliness
It’s a cruel irony: we turn to social media to feel connected, but it often leaves us feeling more isolated. A longitudinal study among Chinese college students found a bidirectional relationship between loneliness and problematic social media use—each feeding into the other over time.
The more we scroll, the lonelier we feel. And the lonelier we feel, the more we scroll. Breaking this cycle requires conscious effort and, often, a reevaluation of our digital habits.
The Generational Divide: Gen Z and the Loneliness Surge
Gen Z, the first generation to grow up entirely in the digital age, is experiencing unprecedented levels of loneliness. A 2025 report revealed that one in four young Australians reports loneliness as a daily stressor. Social media, while offering avenues for connection, often exacerbates feelings of isolation among youth.
The constant exposure to others’ curated lives can lead to feelings of inadequacy and exclusion, further deepening the chasm of loneliness.
The Illusion of AI Companionship
In an attempt to address the loneliness epidemic, tech leaders like Mark Zuckerberg have proposed AI companions as a solution. While AI can offer temporary comfort, it cannot replace the depth and complexity of human relationships. Overreliance on AI risks diminishing the value of genuine human interaction and may lead society to neglect essential social infrastructure.
True connection requires vulnerability, empathy, and shared experiences—qualities that AI, no matter how advanced, cannot authentically replicate.
Reclaiming Connection: Steps Toward Healing
Addressing loneliness in the digital age requires intentional action:
Digital Detox: Set boundaries for screen time. Designate tech-free zones and times to foster real-world interactions.
Community Engagement: Participate in local events, volunteer, or join clubs to build meaningful relationships.
Mindful Technology Use: Use social media intentionally. Engage in content that uplifts and connects rather than isolates.
Seek Support: If loneliness becomes overwhelming, reach out to mental health professionals or support groups.
By taking these steps, we can begin to rebuild the social fabric that technology has, in some ways, unraveled.
A Personal Reflection
I remember a time when I felt truly connected—not through likes or comments, but through shared laughter and unfiltered conversations. It was messy, imperfect, and real. In our pursuit of digital perfection, we’ve lost sight of the beauty in imperfection.
Let’s choose to be present. To look up from our screens and into each other’s eyes. To embrace the awkward silences and the unfiltered moments. Because in those spaces, true connection thrives.
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
