For many years, my life was dictated by a rota—because that’s just what happens when you choose to study medicine. I’ve worked through every kind of holiday, at every hour of the day and night, every day of the week, and every month of the year.
When it came time to choose a specialty, one of my deciding factors was work-life balance. I didn’t want to keep missing out on life because I was stuck working nights and weekends. So, I chose a specialty without those requirements.
When I started General Practice training a couple of years ago, I was thrilled by my newfound freedom. I picked up new hobbies, rekindled friendships, and reveled in the simple joy of sleeping in my own bed every night. These seemingly small changes had a major impact on my well-being. I was enjoying this free time so much that I started considering working Less Than Full Time (LTFT)—a scheme that allows trainee doctors to reduce their working hours, extending their training period in exchange for more personal time.
LTFT is primarily aimed at parents and those with caring responsibilities—neither of which applies to me. So, when I mentioned my plan, I was met with confusion. Not many people could understand why I would willingly accept less pay for more time in training just to get a few days off each week. Thankfully, that didn’t deter me. Looking back now, it was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.
Personally, I have always considered it a flawed design that we are expected to work/study 5 out of 7 days a week and then squeeze the rest of our lives into 2 days. The weekend becomes a chaotic mix of errands, social obligations, and chores, leaving little to no time for actual rest. Monday comes around and the vicious cycle is repeated again and again ad infinitum.
Yet, because we’ve been conditioned to accept this as normal, anyone who works less (or, heaven forbid, chooses not to work) is often labeled as lazy. I can personally attest to this because I get plenty of side-eyes when I tell people I only work three days a week. One of the most common reactions is: "But what do you do with all that time?"
Rest.
cease work or movement in order to relax, sleep, or recover strength.
I rest.
Rest comes in different forms.
There’s physical rest—getting enough sleep, taking breaks, allowing our bodies to recover.
Mental rest—quieting the endless stream of thoughts, stepping away from screens, making space for stillness.
Emotional rest—giving ourselves permission to feel, to process, to not always be ‘on.’
Social rest—recognizing when we need solitude or when we need to surround ourselves with people who uplift us.
Spiritual rest—finding moments of connection, reflection, and meaning.
And a big part of rest is surrender—letting go of the constant need to be productive, the hesitation to prioritize self-care, and the compulsion to meet everyone else’s expectations. It’s a conscious decision to remind ourselves that we are not machines; we have physical, emotional, mental, social, and spiritual needs that deserve attention.
For many of us, rest carries an undercurrent of guilt. Hustle culture has convinced us that sleep is for the weak. We watch others constantly on the go, perhaps achieving great things as a result, and feel the pressure to keep going or risk being left behind. So we push through, ignoring exhaustion, until we burn out (if we’re lucky) or develop an illness (if we’re not).
But here’s the truth: Rest is not a luxury. It’s a necessity.
There’s something quietly indulgent about staying up late on a school night because you don’t have to be up at stupid o’clock the next morning. Something luxurious about an unhurried Thursday lie-in. Something freeing about waking up on a Friday with an entire, obligation-free day stretching ahead of you.
But rest isn’t just about sleep—it’s also about engaging in activities that fill you up. On Thursdays, I spend my day at a sewing studio, where, between bites of cake and sips of tea, I learn a new skill. The sewing itself is work, in a sense, but it’s also rest because I’m away from my usual work environment, under no external pressure, surrounded by a community of people doing something we really enjoy. The feeling of accomplishment from learning new things and completing small tasks is also its own reward.
The result of being adequately rested is that I no longer approach Mondays with dread. Work feels lighter. And my patients get seen by a much nicer doctor than the one I used to be when I worked all the hours.
When we don’t rest, we may get by for a while, but eventually, it catches up with us. I remember a time a few years ago when I was so exhausted from working too many hours that I slept through an absurd number of bleeps. Thankfully, nothing serious happened, but I learnt an important lesson - Rest, or your body go tell you.
Recently I read
Your Money or Your Life: 9 Steps to Transforming Your Relationship with Money and Achieving Financial Independence. I found this book while searching for a different book with a similar title. The blurb from Oprah said, “This is a wonderful book. It can really change your life”. Now that I’ve read it, I’d have to agree.
The book lays out a nine-step program that makes financial independence feel surprisingly achievable. Some of the steps seem tedious, and I doubt I’ll be following all of them to the letter, but it’s easy to see how doing so could be life-changing. One of the biggest takeaways for me was the concept of money as life energy. The idea is simple: we trade our time and energy for money, so when we spend it, we’re essentially spending our life energy. This shift in perspective has already made me more mindful of unnecessary purchases.
I also appreciated the book’s holistic approach to personal finance. There was as much emphasis on saving and investing as there was on reflecting on your relationship with money. And I loved the emphasis on “No shame, no blame.” Some of the exercises force you confront past financial decisions, so it was refreshing to be reminded throughout that your past life decisions are nothing to be ashamed of. Highly recommend this one!
The 4-Hour Work Week by Tim Ferris. I picked this one up recently, and I am yet to finish, but I already have thoughts. The premise of the book is “work smart and not hard.” While there are some nuggets in this book, it reminded me why I stopped reading prescriptive non-fiction. Between the author’s tone and the voice of the person who read the audiobook, I felt scolded the whole time. The tone was condescending in parts, there was a sprinkle of privilege, and it just read like a very “bro book” (Don’t ask me to explain please.)
This is not an entry-level type of book, it felt like he was writing for people at a certain executive level. He certainly did not make me feel like a 4-hour work week is realistic for me, but he reminded me of some important concepts that I need to start implementing.
The days are getting longer and my calendar is gradually filling up. I am looking forward to longer, warmer days and filling my time with frivolous, uplifting activities.
Here’s wishing you a week of reclaiming rest, not as an afterthought, but as an essential part of how you care for yourself. Schedule it in, honor it, and remind yourself that resting isn’t time wasted—it’s time well spent.