We have all seen it. The friend who cannot quit conferring about their 80-hour workweek, the social media feeds of people guzzling espresso at 2 am to keep grinding, the humble brag, ‘I am so busy; I haven’t slept in days.’ Being wiped out is no longer alarming; somehow, it is boastful. Fatigue is this strange insignia that people have, demonstrating that they are making milestones. We shall refer to it as such: a warning sign. But the truth is, this glorification of busyness is virulent.
Hustle harder, go all out. Sleep less. Say yes to everything. That’s the way up, right? Or so we’re told. Society idolises it. Superiors compliment the last person to arrive. When you make excuses and cancel plans due to work, your friends react with a knowing gesture. Even our language fails us: a busy schedule is a great idea, and it will make you feel like a hero, but saying that you spent the afternoon off is like you are fessing up. It demands that you run on fumes to prove you are trying.
And it’s wrecking us. When you work yourself to the bone, you have become defiant if your body’s cortisol goes woozy, your heart and your immune system get hit, and you are left with that tremendous fatigue not even coffee can cure. Mentally, it’s a disaster. Procrastination, depression, anxiety. They all sneak in. Even something that makes you feel ecstatic seems like a burden. I have seen people hit that limit of that so-called productive fog until they shatter. Spending time before a screen, sniffing, and thinking, ‘Why does taking time off feel like failure?’ Maybe you’ve been there too.
This dilemma is not just the case of individuals; it goes beyond that. We have created a system whereby the number of hours worked counts more than human life. This system causes you to feel overwhelmed when it comes to prioritising your family or yourself. Instead, you let relations fall apart, ignoring sentiments and devaluing efforts, just for the sake of distinguishing yourself. We must change our perspective. Rest isn’t weakness. Balance isn’t laziness. Self-care is not a selfish thing to do; it is survival.
Then how are we to begin to change anything? Start small. Begin small: review the things you say yes to and take back your no. Schedule audits for yourself as though you were in a meeting, not with another person. Redefine success as you know it. Is it that corner office or perhaps a guilt-free hike? Keep a journal focused on your sleep, not on things that bring you joy or just getting things off your list. And talk about it. Tell your personal experiences of slowing down and make time-out something to be proud of.
To be able to reclaim your right to repose is not obstinate. It’s necessary. Being restless or burnt out is not a badge of honour; it is an indicator that we have gone astray.
Suppose your worth wasn’t measured by exhaustion; what would you chase instead of being worn out? Maybe it’s time we find out.