This week, I realised that somewhere along the way, rest had become uncomfortable.
Not the kind of “rest” that looks like passive scrolling or mindless distraction.
I mean deliberate, intentional rest.
The kind that nourishes. Repairs. Regenerates.
Joyful rest.
The kind that asks nothing of you except your presence.
And I realised that maybe I wasn’t alone.
My realisation came in part because I had two separate conversations, one with a friend, another with a client about this same exact thing.
Both were navigating the same paradox:
They deeply wanted rest, yet somehow rest itself had become another task to complete.
Something to schedule.
Something to optimise.
Something to “do well.”
And because other priorities always seemed more urgent, time for themselves was repeatedly postponed.
Or worse, when they finally did pause, guilt crept in.
My client asked me a question I haven’t stopped thinking about since:
“Is this rest, or defeat?”
Does slowing down to do the things I enjoy mean I’m somehow failing?
I could relate immediately.
Most high-functioning people struggle to prioritise rest, not because we do not want to, but because somewhere between getting excellent grades, pleasing our parents, proving ourselves professionally, and learning to perform under pressure, we internalised a dangerous equation:
Achievement equals worth.
And if achievement is worth, then rest begins to feel like its opposite.
I vividly remember being scolded as a teenager for napping.
“There is always something to be done,” my well-intentioned mother used to say.
She wanted me to have every opportunity.
And in her mind, opportunity was built through effort.
Rest was not part of the formula.
Without realising it, I carried that pattern well into adulthood.
And the truth hit me just last night.
I was still refining and rewriting work close to midnight, convincing myself I was being productive.
And then it landed:
Somewhere along the way, I had turned rest into something I needed to earn.
This is what pathological productivity looks like.
Not discipline.
Not ambition.
Restlessness disguised as virtue.
The culture of constant doing is deeply ingrained because it is rewarded.
You do not get promoted for resting.
You do not earn admiration for leaving work early.
You rarely get impressed reactions when you say you spent the weekend doing absolutely nothing.
And this is where it gets interesting.
Pathological productivity does not only show up at work. It shows up everywhere.
In how you socialise.
In how you exercise.
In how you “self-improve.”
Even in how you “rest”.
A morning walk becomes step-count data.
Meditation becomes another streak to maintain.
A weekend away becomes something to document, optimise, and justify.
If you are always on, even in your moments of pause, you are not actually resting.
You are performing rest.
I recently explored this deeply in my latest YouTube episode, unpacking the opening chapters of Dr. Judith Joseph’s High Functioning—a fascinating exploration of how unresolved stress often hides beneath competence, achievement, and outward success.
Her book is a powerful reminder that functioning well is not the same as being well.
Lucky for me, this weekend my partner and I are escaping to Rome.
And my only plan is to fully embrace il dolce far niente—the sweetness of doing nothing.
To let my body soften.
To let my mind wander.
To allow recovery to happen without needing to earn it.
Because rest is not defeat.
It is repair.
And repair is what makes sustainable performance possible.
My mission is to not isolate rest to some weekends, or vacations. But rather ingrain in into my daily rituals.
Rest as a way of being. Because repair doesn’t happen with 2 weeks off. It happens daily.
This is precisely why Rest & Recovery is one of the 12 Life Markers within my Trajectory Assessment.
It is informed by decades of research—from the Harvard Study of Adult Development, the longevity insights of the Blue Zones, and the science of wellbeing through the PERMA framework.
Because living well for a long time is not always about doing more.
It is about knowing when doing nothing is the better.
A simple reflection for your weekend:
When was the last time you rested without trying to make it productive?
And if rest still feels like something you need to earn, it may be worth asking yourself:
Have I confused being productive with being worthy?
Ciao.
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