We are taught, from a young age, to earn our rest.
To check enough boxes. To achieve enough. To hustle first, recover later. Rest becomes the prize at the end of productivity. A break you get after you've proven your worth.
But what if rest isn't a reward? What if it's right?
Something you deserve not because of what you've done but because you're human.
Dr. Matthew Lieberman's research at UCLA reveals something profound: when our brains aren't actively focused on tasks, they don't simply shut down.
Instead, they activate what neuroscientists call the "default mode network", a complex system that processes emotions, consolidates memories, and engages in moral reasoning.
In other words, rest isn't emptiness. It's when some of our most important mental work happens.
Your body needs rest. Your nervous system needs it. Your creativity needs it. Your relationships need it. And yet we override it, again and again, in the name of more. More output. More progress. More achievement.
A second study by Dr. Erin Reid at Boston University found that managers could distinguish between employees who actually worked 80-hour weeks and those who merely pretended to. The "pretenders" were equally likely to receive positive performance reviews and promotions.
The revelation wasn't that people were getting away with laziness; it was that the appearance of overwork had become more valuable than actual results.
We drink the extra coffee. Push through the headache. Check one more thing off the list. And beneath it all, there's often a quiet fear: If I slow down, I'll fall behind.
But behind what? Behind whom?
There's no universal clock measuring your value. No scoreboard tracking your stillness. No trophy for the most burnt out.
You do not become more worthy by running yourself into the ground.
As poet Adrienne Rich wrote, "There must be those among whom we can sit down and weep and still be counted as warriors."
Sometimes the most courageous thing you can do is admit you're tired.
And rest doesn't make you weak. It makes you wise.
Because rest is not the opposite of ambition, it's the foundation of it.
It's what allows you to think clearly. To move with intention. To show up with presence.
The problem is, we often wait for exhaustion to permit ourselves. We wait until we're sick. Until we've snapped at someone. Until our body forces the issue.
But what if we didn't wait? What if we rested before we hit the edge?
That's not laziness. That's self-respect.
You are allowed to rest without apologising.
You are allowed to rest even if the laundry isn't done, even if someone else is still working, even if your inbox is full.
You are allowed to rest simply because you are tired.
As psychologist Dr. Kristin Neff reminds us, "With self-compassion, we give ourselves the same kindness and care we'd give to a good friend." Would you tell a good friend to work through their exhaustion? To ignore their body's signals? To earn their right to rest?
Let your rest be real. Not just numbing out. Not just scrolling. But proper, intentional, restorative rest.
Close your eyes for ten minutes.
Put the phone down for an hour.
Say no without guilt.
Go outside without a destination.
Not because you've earned it. But because you're allowed to receive it.
In a culture that profits from your exhaustion and sells you solutions to problems it has created, choosing rest is a quiet revolution. It's saying: I am more than my output. My worth isn't contingent on my productivity. I belong here even when I'm not performing.
You don't owe anyone your exhaustion. You owe yourself your care.
The world will not collapse if you rest. The work will be there tomorrow. But your well-being, your presence, and your capacity for joy are finite resources that deserve your protection.
Rest isn't something you earn. It's something you are.
Your life is not an emergency. You are not a machine.
You are a human being, worthy of rest, deserving of care, allowed to be tired without apologising for taking up space in a world that never stops moving.
The most radical thing you can do is close your eyes and trust that you'll still be valuable when you open them.
Thank you for reading, your time and attention mean everything. This essay is free, but if you found value in it, consider buying me a coffee to support my work. For more thoughts and short notes, find me on Instagram.