If you can’t remember the last time you rested — really rested — this episode is for you.
We live in a culture where doing is proof of worth.
If you’re not producing, improving, or hustling, it feels like you’re falling behind.
Rest has to be justified. We call it earned downtime.
That’s the world Jess lived in, until one day — only fifteen days into the new year — she fell.
The Pause That Changed Everything
Six weeks in a cast might not sound like much, but when you’re used to holding everything together, it can feel like a lifetime.
For Jess, that forced stillness brought up questions most of us avoid:
Who am I if I’m not useful? What’s left when the doing stops?
Those same questions echoed through my own life.
A few years ago, on a trip to Brazil, I sprained my ankle the day before a once-in-a-lifetime hike.
I taped it up and went anyway — miles of sand dunes, uneven ground, pain shooting up my leg.
At the time, I told myself I just didn’t want to miss out.
But maybe I didn’t know how to stop. Maybe I thought rest was weakness.
What We Learn When We’re Forced to Slow Down
Jess didn’t have a choice — her body said “enough.”
And in that pause, she discovered what most of us are too busy to notice:
Her worth had become tangled up in her usefulness.
When she finally asked for help — truly accepted it — everything changed.
“Letting someone else do it differently,” she said, “was the hardest and most freeing thing I’ve ever done.”
Rest wasn’t laziness. It was recalibration.
The Guilt of Pleasure
I confessed something to Jess: I love reading fiction before bed.
It’s how I unwind — how I remember who I am outside of the world’s expectations.
But for years, I felt guilty about it.
Why is joy something we feel like we need to earn?
Productivity is easy to measure; worth isn’t.
Maybe that’s why we chase one and forget the other.
Redefining Productivity
Rest doesn’t mean giving up on ambition.
It means separating who you are from what you do.
Next time you measure your day by how much you got done, ask yourself:
How much of me was actually present?
The work doesn’t make you worthy — you already are.
Meet Jess here

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