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Have you ever wanted to say yes to something joyful — a retreat, a vacation, even a quiet day off — but found yourself tangled in guilt about everything waiting for you at home or work?
Even when I have an emphatic “yes” inside me, I sometimes feel like I need to hide it or pretend I didn’t hear it. As if saying yes to something for myself is indulgent, or that I haven’t yet earned it.
This came up recently when one of my dearest friends invited me to a yoga retreat in Italy. I wanted to go immediately — my whole body said yes — but the “responsible” part of me hesitated. How could I possibly take that time for myself? I had just come back from a family trip a few months earlier. Wasn’t it too soon, too much, too self-focused?
But this retreat wasn’t about travel or sightseeing — it was about rest and creative recharge. My body, injured for over three years, was yearning to move again, to expand, to take up space. It wanted to draw, to stretch, to play. This was a chance to rest in a different way — one that would refill, not just pause.
Eventually, I booked the flight. And in that moment, something shifted: I realized I was already living the life I’d worked so hard to create. I didn’t need to keep proving I deserved rest.
Culturally, we’re taught that our worth comes from how much we do — how productive, efficient, and available we are. It’s no wonder rest feels like a guilty pleasure instead of a basic need. For many of us, the inner dialogue sounds like this:
“I should be doing more.”
“What if I fall behind?”
“People are counting on me.”
Those thoughts don’t come from laziness — they come from care. From wanting to show up well for others. But without balance, that care can turn into guilt and self-neglect.
When I finally clicked “book,” it wasn’t just a travel decision — it was a deeper realization that responsibility doesn’t mean self-abandonment. I had been living in a quiet state of striving, forgetting that I was already here.
When obligations consistently outweigh rest, the result isn’t more success — it’s burnout.
Without space to pause, creativity dims. Joy feels distant. And eventually, compassion — even for others — starts to fade.
I’ve noticed this in myself too: when my creative rest time gets swallowed by admin tasks or “quick work things,” my inspiration dries up. That’s how burnout sneaks in — not all at once, but in tiny moments where we say “not yet” to ourselves over and over again.
Rest isn’t the opposite of responsibility — it’s part of it.
Our nervous systems are not built for constant doing. They need downtime to settle, integrate, and recover. In somatic therapy, we talk about cycles of activation and rest — the natural ebb and flow that keeps us balanced. When we override that rhythm, our bodies and minds eventually remind us through fatigue, tension, or irritability.
Rest allows us to show up better — not less. It’s how we sustain care, creativity, and compassion over time.
Finding balance isn’t about rigid scheduling — it’s about creating anchors that bring you back to centre.
These anchors remind us that rest doesn’t need to be earned — it can be built into the rhythm of everyday life.
Sometimes responsibility wins, and that’s okay. Life has seasons of focus and seasons of rest.
But when rest calls, and your body whispers yes, I hope you can listen. Even small moments of saying yes — a pause, a stretch, a quiet evening — can shift how you relate to responsibility.
Saying yes to yourself isn’t selfish. It’s a way of remembering that you’re human, not a machine.
Joy and responsibility don’t have to be opposites — they can live side by side. Taking time for yourself doesn’t erase your care for others; it renews it.
So, where in your life are you feeling pulled by obligation?
And what would it look like to give yourself permission to rest?
If you’re navigating burnout, responsibility overload, or guilt around self-care, counselling can help you find your balance — with compassion, creativity, and rest at the centre.
