There was a week I couldn’t finish a single task. Not because I didn’t want to, but because my brain had too many tabs open, none of them responding. Everything I usually rely on—coffee, lists, pep talks—just… fizzled.
And I hated that.
I hated feeling stuck, slow, and scattered. I hated needing rest when I couldn’t explain the burnout. I hated the invisible weight of it all. The noise inside. The guilt of being tired. The loop of ‘why am I like this?’
But that week taught me something I didn’t expect: I don’t have to fix every part of myself to move forward. I just need to stay with myself. Gently.
What Helped When Nothing Else Did:
Here’s what I did instead of pushing:
- I let the sunlight in, even if I didn’t step outside.
- I reread lyrics that once comforted me. (Let Go by BTS was one of them.)
- I messaged a friend, not to explain, but to simply say, “Can you just check in on me later?”
- I cried after a conversation with my CEO. It wasn’t a shouting match or anything loud—but even the subtle pressure, the veiled guilt, the feeling of being misunderstood—it all felt like too much. Even the smallest requests felt like mountains that day. I kept thinking, Why can’t I do this? It was a quiet kind of collapse, and that moment of release helped me realise how much I was holding in.
Even the smallest requests felt like mountains
That conversation came at a time when I had decided to leave the company. The leadership tried to keep me by offering promotions and more money, as if loyalty could be bought. They didn’t know how I worked, not really. The one person who did—my previous director—had become a mentor to me. I was leaving to follow their leadership elsewhere.
But the leadership I was leaving behind began criticising that mentor, accusing him of underpaying me and using me. Then, as a last tactic, they implied I was stealing, disguised as concern over me helping with the transition. All of it—this manipulation, this attempt to redefine my choices—cracked something open inside me.
I was tired of being misunderstood, of having my integrity questioned, of being made to feel like a transaction.
So I cried. Not just from the weight of that week, but from the realisation that I deserved better. That I wasn’t broken for needing a different kind of space. That the decision to leave wasn’t selfish—it was self-trust.
It didn’t solve everything overnight, but it reminded me that softness is still movement and that tending to yourself in stillness is still survival.
Why Rest Doesn’t Need to Be Earned:
We live in a world that tells us to earn our pause, to justify our needs, to “push through” everything. But that’s not how healing works. Some days, your biggest act of strength is choosing to stop.
There’s wisdom in listening to your body, even when it speaks in whispers. There’s courage in sitting with your overwhelm instead of silencing it. There’s love in letting go of perfection.
A Reminder for You (and Me):
So if you’re here, overwhelmed and unsure, know this:
You’re allowed to pause without proof. You’re allowed to feel without fixing. And you’re still worthy, even when you can’t perform your best self.
You are not broken. You are becoming. And some of the most powerful growth begins with stillness.
That’s what I learned. That’s what this hurt taught me.
With care,
Chirpy