Rest Is Not a Reward: Redefining Self-Care in My Mental Health Journey

For most of my adult life, I believed that rest was something earned. Growing up, I heard messages from society, school, friends, and family that productivity equalled worth. If I wasn’t achieving, I was failing. Rest wasn’t just a luxury—it felt like an indulgence that wasn’t allowed unless I had approval.

But navigating through my mental health journey over the past year, I’ve learned this mindset wasn’t just unsustainable; it was damaging. As a person with ADHD, this often led me to feel overwhelmed, leading me to really get nothing accomplished except for being hard on myself constantly.

The hardest lesson I’ve had to internalize is that rest isn’t a reward; it’s a necessity.

When I first sought help for my anxiety and ADHD, I was desperate for solutions. I wanted strategies, answers, and fixes. What I didn’t want was to slow down. Rest felt counterproductive, almost like admitting defeat, putting off things that I really shouldn’t put off. If I wasn’t doing something to improve my mental health—whether it was therapy, mindfulness practices, or goal-setting—then I was failing at my recovery.

This mindset led to a toxic cycle of pushing myself too hard and trying to convince myself that I could “fix” my brain if I just worked harder. Inevitably, I’d burn out, retreating into a state of exhaustion that only reinforced my shame. Why couldn’t I keep up? Why did I always need a break when everyone else seemed to be thriving? What I didn’t realize was that rest wasn’t a sign of weakness; it was my body’s way of calling for help.

The turning point came during one time when I was juggling work in mental health and not resting, in combination with personal obligations and the weight of anxiety. My brain felt like it was running on fumes, but I refused to stop having a relapse for the first time after five years of being relapse-free. Then, during a therapy session, my counsellor asked a question that stayed with me: “What would happen if you let yourself rest?”

The question hit me hard because I didn’t have an answer. I had never permitted myself to stop. Rest, in my mind, was something other people deserved—people who worked harder or had achieved more. I thought I had to earn it, but the truth was, I needed it just as much as anyone else, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.

From that moment, I began experimenting with rest, though it wasn’t easy. Resting meant confronting the voice in my head that called me lazy. It meant sitting with the discomfort of doing nothing, learning to trust that the world wouldn’t fall apart if I stepped back. At first, it felt unnatural. I’d take a break but spend the entire time worrying about what I wasn’t doing. Over time, though, I started to see rest differently.

Rest wasn’t about abandoning responsibility; it was about recharging and re-centering myself so I could show up fully. It wasn’t about escaping my struggles but creating space to process them. Whether it was a walk in nature, an afternoon spent reading, or even a nap, rest became an act of self-compassion rather than self-indulgence.

I started to notice how rest helped me approach my mental health with greater clarity. Instead of spiralling into overwhelm, I could pause, reflect, and recalibrate. Rest gave me the ability to identify what I needed—whether it was reaching out for support, adjusting my workload, or simply being kind to myself.

Giving myself permission to rest improved my mental health and shifted my relationship with myself. I stopped viewing rest as a sign of failure and started seeing it as a form of resilience. By honouring my need for rest, I was honouring my humanity.

Now, when I feel the familiar pull to keep going no matter what, I remind myself of that question from my therapist: “What would happen if you let yourself rest?” The answer, I’ve learned, is simple. I can breathe. I can heal; I can space. And I can keep going—not because I’ve pushed myself to the limit, but because I’ve allowed myself to stop.

In a world that glorifies hustle and productivity, resting is a radical act. For me, it’s also a necessary one. By permitting myself to rest, I’ve learned that taking care of myself isn’t something I have to earn—it’s something I deserve, and you deserve. Always.