Rest Guilt Is Real (And It’s Wasting Your Life): How I’m Learning to Be Still

I have a confession that I doubt will surprise you. I am terrible at resting. Seriously, I’d rather write a new blog about not being able to rest during my downtime than sit quietly on the couch without a purpose. Even as I write this sentence, I’m fighting the urge to flip to my to-do list and sacrifice a little more “empty space” for “just one more productive thing.”

If you’ve experienced that weird, squirmy guilt when you stop moving for two minutes, welcome to the club. The only membership requirement? An unrelenting expectation to always do, fix, or improve something.

How Rest Guilt Played Out in My Life

I remember my first vacation out of the country. Cancun. White sand, blue waves, my family finally together just to relax. A literal paradise, if you can overlook the soundtrack of email notifications and the fact that I had to spend hours away to handle payroll, check on inventory, and answer questions from employees that could’ve easily waited. My break needed a break. (Pro tip: nothing says “fun” like sneaking in a budget spreadsheet between poolside appetizers.

You’d think after writing an entire book on Work-Life Harmony, I’d at least have learned how to clock out. But even now, with plenty of free time carved out by years of practicing what I preach, there’s still this twitchy urge to fill every empty spot. My business coach recently asked me how I plan on retiring at 50 if I can’t even clock out for dinner. That question hit hard.

Sometimes silence feels like an open loop I need to close.

Where Does That Guilt Come From?

For a long time, I conflated productivity with value. If I wasn’t ticking boxes, then who was I? Turns out, I’m not alone. Our culture celebrates the grind, idolizes “rise and grind” tweets, and treats exhaustion like a badge of honor. It’s a mindset that says rest is wasted potential, when in fact, that’s utter nonsense.

The Japanese have an expression––“yohaku no bi,” the beauty of empty space. A Japanese garden isn’t just about the stones and the plants, but the quiet emptiness between them. The emptiness is what gives it form. Yet, we look at the blank spots in our calendars and feel panic instead of peace. Go figure.

Gloria Mark, a cognitive scientist and author of Attention Span, writes that relentless screen time and hustle is making us all exhausted. Creating intentional moments to do nothing, literally nothing, is scientifically proven to restore happiness, productivity, and balance.

I can’t be the only one who finds that both comforting and infuriating.

The Dangers of Overworking (Or Why Your Brain Is Not a Factory)

If you need a guilt trip for not resting, consider this: chronic overworking isn’t just a quirky personality trait, it’s basically a health hazard. Research links overwork to burnout, anxiety, weakened immune systems, and a high-speed train to the worst nightmare for people like us; not having the energy to keep going.

Constant business turns your brain into a messy desktop with 48 open tabs. At some point, nothing loads, and even the things you love start to feel like chores. Who wins in that scenario? Spoiler alert––no one.

How I’m (Slowly) Learning to Rest Without Apology

This is the part where I’m supposed to say something like, “Now I rest like a Zen monk on extended vacation.” I don’t. But I can share what’s working for me, imperfectly:

1. Intentionally Schedule Rest

I treat rest like another appointment. “Every night from 8-9 is Me Time - No Work” If it’s in the calendar, there’s a 60% chance I’ll stick to it (which, for me, is progress).

2. Practice Mindfulness

Mindfulness isn’t just a buzzword. Mindfulness reminds me that if I’m sitting on the porch listening to the birds, I am doing something. I’m giving my brain the pause it craves.

3. Redefining Productivity

This one is tough. Rest is productive. The recharge actually makes your “on” hours sharper and ideas more compelling. I’ve literally solved business issues (and written half my book) while doing nothing. Trust the science.

3. Challenge the Negative Thoughts

When that little voice says, “You should be doing something,” I ask, “Says who?” (It usually has no good answer.) Most of the time, that urge is just a bunch of old programming.

4. Do Things You Genuinely Enjoy

Rest isn’t just the absence of work; it’s the presence of something enjoyable. If you like painting, paint. If you want to lay on the floor with the dog, do that. “Productive rest” is not an oxymoron.

5. Seek Out Support

For a while, I thought I was the only one haunted by the ghost of “wasted time.” Turns out, friends, business coaches, and even therapists can help you stop seeing rest as something you have to earn.

6. Start Small

If the idea of a whole day off gives you the shakes, then start with five minutes. Like any new skill, you build comfort slowly.

7. Reflect on the Benefits

I try to notice how, after truly resting, I actually enjoy my life more. Even my work gets better. Shocking, I know.

8. Acknowledge “Yohaku No Bi”

I’m working on appreciating the blank spots in my own life, not just on my calendar. Sometimes, the space is the art. The beauty of nothing is, well, something.

The 2025 Goal I’m Actually Nervous About

Here’s the hard truth after thirty-odd years of chasing every ambition—I want to “learn to be still.” That’s my honest-to-goodness 2025 goal. Simple words, maddeningly difficult in practice. But I’m determined, even if my version of “stillness” starts with five minutes sitting awkwardly, staring at a wall and trying not to check my email.

Final Thoughts (With a Kick in the Pants)

If you’re reading this because you’re also unable to rest without guilt, congratulations. You are proving there is nothing wrong with you, except maybe a little too much hustle-programming. Rest isn’t lazy. Stillness isn’t wasted time. Those blank spaces in your life are not a sign of failure.

The garden needs its empty space.

My advice? Give yourself permission to waste time “on purpose.” With any luck, someday we’ll both look back and wonder why we didn’t do it sooner. And if you’re struggling with that urge to fill every gap, consider this your invitation to put your feet up, exhale, and discover the beauty in simply being.

I’ll be here, learning to be still—one awkward, guilt-free minute at a time.