Rest Isn't Productive (And That's Okay)

Resting properly is something I've always struggled with. Somewhere along the way, I convinced myself that everything I do has to be “productive” and the concept of rest got dragged into this mindset too. Even when I took a break, it had to deliver the biggest bang for its buck, or I’d look back and regret “wasting” my precious free time.

Back when I was new to the tech industry, I booked some annual leave, hoping to decompress. Instead, I remember making a to-do list which itemised all the ways I was going to relax effectively so that I'd return to work refreshed.

Spoiler alert: I did not return to work refreshed.

Now, older and juggling more responsibilities, I’ve learned that relentless pushing comes at a cost. The cumulative effect of life's stresses is a little harder to shake off, especially when I factor in the masking from autism and the executive dysfunction of ADHD. Energy now feels like a precious commodity, a scarce resource which is unpredictable in its availability. My old model of squeezing out every drop of productivity has stopped working, and my body now loudly protests whenever I try.

This week, I was lucky enough to contract my 4th (that I know of) covid infection. Despite living a relatively quiet life working from home and avoiding crowded spaces, I’ve somehow caught it more often than most people I know. My partner remains unaffected by my latest infection, still testing negative even as I move through the last stages of symptoms and finally feel as though I'm shaking it off. How strange.

When I last had covid, I made the mistake of thinking I could work my way through it. At the time, I was in an incredibly stressful leadership role in a small startup, and just ploughed through as usual. That's what you're meant to do, right? If you're not completely bed-ridden, then you should just power through, apparently. So I logged onto my daily grind as normal while I coughed and spluttered away, riding the addictive waves of stress until my body had no choice but to stop me.

The result? Long covid.

For months, I couldn’t function properly. Brain fog clouded every thought, and activities I once loved felt impossible. Running, which used to bring me joy, became a slow shuffle that left me exhausted after a fraction of my usual distance. Even yoga, which I forced myself to do in the name of recovery, felt like a chore. Every joint ached, every movement hurt. It was one of the darkest periods of my life.

So, this time, I knew I couldn’t let myself fall into that same trap. The fear of long covid was at the forefront of my mind. Familiar thoughts crept in:

"If I just rest in the most efficient way, I'll not waste any valuable time and I'll be back to peak performance as soon as possible"

How did I get to a point where I can't even be ill without trying to optimise my recovery? Determined not to repeat past mistakes, I’ve tried to reframe these thoughts with more compassion and self-care.

First, I allowed myself to take time off work without guilt, and reminded myself that rest is necessary, not indulgent. Given I'm new in my role, part of me is still scared of it going away for whatever reason, but this is literally why sick days exist.

I also bought myself some relaxing games to play and lost myself in those whilst wrapped up in a duvet. I'd recommend Dorfromantik and Minami Lane if you ever need games you can still play even while brain fogged and horizontal.

Additionally, I made an effort to eat nutritious food, drink plenty of water, and move gently despite my body’s complaints. Feeling my heart rate spike and my world swim every time I stood up was both scary and humbling.

I feel incredibly lucky that I have the space and support to take it slow while I recover, especially in this world which encourages us to give every last drop of ourselves. It’s been strangely comforting to allow myself to be “suboptimal” for a while, to stop chasing productivity and just accept that right now, I can’t do much. And that’s okay.