The Slow Return: Moving Forward After Rest
#30
Dear Reader's
In my last letter, I wrote about how life forced me to stop, how, in that unexpected stillness, I stumbled upon a gift I didn’t know I needed. But what happens when the pause ends? What happens when the world starts spinning again, and you’re expected to jump back in, as if the break was just a pit stop on the racetrack of life?
I’ll be honest: I thought rest would be a cure-all. I pictured it like a magic wand, wave it over my exhaustion, and poof, I’d wake up one day brimming with energy, razor-sharp clarity, and the kind of drive that powers through to-do lists like a superhero. But when I returned to work, it wasn’t like that. It was slow. Unsteady. Some mornings, I’d sit at my desk, hands hovering over the keyboard, waiting for the old me to show up, the one who could juggle a dozen tasks without blinking. He didn’t. I still got tired faster than I’d hoped. I still hesitated before saying “yes” to too much. The hustle hadn’t abandoned me, but neither had the quiet, nagging fear of burning out all over again
And yet, in that messy re-entry, I started to see something new. Here’s what I’ve learned so far, lessons I’m still unpacking as I go:
Rest Isn’t a Reset Button
I went into this expecting a clean slate, like rest would erase the fatigue, the doubts, the wear and tear of years spent pushing too hard. But recovery doesn’t work like a video game power-up. It’s not linear or predictable. Some days, I’d work for hours, feeling a flicker of my old fire. Others, I’d reach for a blanket by noon, wondering if I’d ever “get back” to who I was. Here’s the thing: that’s not the goal anymore. Slow rebuilding isn’t a sign of weakness, it’s how you forge endurance that lasts. Think of it like a muscle healing after a strain. You don’t leap straight into lifting heavy weights; you start small, steady, and let time do the heavy lifting.Your Boundaries Are Your Best Defense
Before the pause, “no” felt like a dirty word, a confession of failure, a crack in the armor of my capability. Now? I guard my rest like it’s a sacred ritual. I’ve started blocking out “non-working hours” on my calendar, not as a suggestion, but as an immovable fortress. Recently, a colleague asked if I could squeeze in a last-minute call during one of those blocks. Old me would’ve caved, muttering something about teamwork. New me smiled and said, “Sorry, I’m booked then.” And I was booked with myself. It felt awkward at first, like I was breaking some unspoken rule. But then I realized: the only rule I’d been breaking was the one I owed myself to protect my energy.The Real Test Comes After the Break
Resting when life forces you to collapse into it is one thing. It’s almost easy when you have no choice. The real challenge? Choose rest when the engine’s humming, when you can keep going, and when the world’s whispering (or shouting) is what you should do. I’ve caught myself slipping back into old habits, staying up too late to finish “one more thing,” saying yes when my gut screamed no. The difference now is awareness. I notice the slip before it becomes a spiral. Last week, I was midway through drafting an email at 10 p.m. when I stopped. “Why am I doing this?” I asked myself. The answer? Habit. Not necessary. So I closed the laptop. The world didn’t end. The email waited. And I slept.You Don’t Owe Anyone Your Exhaustion
We live in a culture that wears busyness like a medal. “How are you?” we ask, and the answer’s often a humblebrag: “Oh, you know, swamped. Exhausted. Barely keeping up.” As if “I’m tired” proves your worth. I used to play that game, proudly rattling off my packed schedule like it was a resume highlight. Now I’m questioning it. What if “productive” didn’t mean running yourself ragged? What if it meant building a life where you thrive, not just survive? Imagine a world where we brag about balance instead: “I got eight hours of sleep last night, crushed it.” It’s a quiet rebellion, but I’m starting to think it’s the one worth fighting for.
A New Rhythm
Two months ago, I was someone else who measured herself by how much she could carry without breaking. I’m not that person anymore, and that’s not a loss; it’s the whole point. Growth isn’t just in the climbing, the achieving, the relentless upward sprint. It’s in the pauses. The pace you set. The moments you choose not to rush, even when the world says you should. I’m finding a new rhythm now, one that ebbs and flows, that honors both the work and the stillness. It’s not perfect. Some days, I still push too hard. Others, I rest more than I planned. But it’s mine, and it’s unfolding.
So if you’re navigating your return from a pause, whether it’s a forced stop or a deliberate break, here’s your permission slip:
To ease back in, not cannonball.
Protect your energy like it’s the most valuable currency you’ve got, because it is.
To measure progress not by how fast you go, but by how long you can sustain it.
This isn’t a “before and after” story with a tidy bow. It’s a middle, a messy, honest, ongoing unfolding. I don’t have all the answers yet, but I’m learning the questions worth asking. What’s your rhythm? What’s your rest? What’s your rebellion against the grind?
More soon,
Khanya
Incase You Missed It
If you’re enjoying the newsletter, please share it with a friend or on social media. Your support means the world!