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.
