Peris Mutena, one of our 2026 Resilience Fellows, came away from our Resilience Residential reevaluating what it means to rest. In this blog post, Peris shares what she noticed about her own need to “earn” rest, and what it’s taken to start letting go of that.
I realized something uncomfortable about my relationship with rest. I don’t naturally rest. I earn rest.
Recently, I attended the Resilience Project’s Resilience Residential – five days, off-grid where we learned practical tools to unlock resilience, avoid burnout and build a meaningful community. Before leaving, I double-checked, then double-checked again, everything on my to-do list. Every task had to be done. Every loose end had to be tied.
Looking back, I think my mind was seeking permission to rest. As if I needed to prove that I had done enough before I could allow myself to pause. And that got me thinking: when did rest become something I had to deserve?
For me, it isn’t necessarily rest after a long day. Sometimes I feel like I need a big achievement first. Or two months of being incredibly busy. Something significant enough to justify stopping. And maybe that is where the problem begins. When did exhaustion become proof that we are doing enough?
We have glorified being busy. We are tying our personalities to productivity. Ask someone how they are and “busy” has almost become a badge of honor. Packed calendars, long hours, constant availability. Rest becomes something we earn, while exhaustion becomes evidence of ambition.
I’m sometimes ashamed to say I’m up to nothing when everyone around me is busy. I think my relationship with productivity started much earlier.
My first encounter with burnout was in high school. I didn’t know the word then. I just knew I had become disinterested in things I once cared about. The “golden child/student” was suddenly struggling, and nothing she did seemed to make things better. Looking back, I had taken on a lot without knowing how to carry it. But perhaps the bigger problem was that I allowed that experience to shape how I saw my worth.
For years, I sometimes wondered if I would have landed somewhere better if I hadn’t burned out. Funny enough, I look at my life today and think: I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
Life has a beautiful way of unfolding.
Perhaps productivity becomes dangerous when it stops being something we do and becomes something we use to prove who we are. “I worked hard today” becomes “I am valuable because I worked hard today.” Suddenly, resting feels uncomfortable. What if success wasn’t measured by how exhausted you are? What if it includes having meaningful relationships, enough sleep, moments of joy and ability to be present with the people you love?
Fulfilment is rest, connection, creativity and experiences that can’t be measured on a to-do list. I’m learning that rest isn’t a reward. It isn’t something I need to deserve.
And it isn’t just sleep. We need physical, mental, emotional, sensory, creative, social and spiritual rest.
Burnout isn’t only an individual problem either. The systems we work and live in can reward overwork, constant availability and doing more with less. Personal resilience matters. Healthy systems matter too.
One thing that has helped me find my way through is community. The few days with fellow change-makers reminded me that we are all reading from the same book. The struggles may look different, but the doubts, pressure and “I don’t know what I’m doing” moments are surprisingly familiar.
Therapy has helped. Connecting with mummy dearest has helped. And most importantly, I’m learning that I don’t have to carry life alone. These days, I’m trying to build from a regulated nervous system. Honestly, there is nothing like creating when you are rested and recharged.
That deadline keeping you up? Maybe you don’t need to push harder. Maybe you need to rest. Because sometimes the idea you’re desperately trying to force out of yourself is waiting for you on the other side of a pause. You are more than what you produce.
The opposite of burnout isn’t simply rest, perhaps its rejecting the belief that your value rises and falls with your output.
It’s finally believing that your worth doesn’t have to be earned. Your humanity has never depended on your productivity.
