Why Does Rest Feel Like A Luxury As We Get Older?
A Love Letter To Burnt-Out Women Who Can’t Seem To Stop I used to wear “busy” like it was Chanel. You know what I mean. That proud little tug at the end of “I haven’t slept” or the martyr glow after finishing a report at 3 a.m. and still showing up to work looking semi-put-together (read: dry shampoo and undereye concealer doing overtime). I was a hustler in every sense of the word. I had a fast-paced agency job that paid the bills (and then some), three freelance gigs on the side that paid for my oat milk lattes and skincare addiction, and somehow I was also ghost writing for a start-up CEO who thought emails should read like TED Talks. Oh, and I am also the designated family tech support, part-time therapist, errand girl, and—you guessed it—breadwinner. I thought I was thriving. To be fair, it looked like I was thriving. I had the receipts—emails at midnight, invoices paid, Google Calendar looking like a rainbow vomited on it. But inside? I was withering. Slowly. Quietly. In a ...