There’s a quiet irony in being told to rest when your world won’t stop moving — physically and figuratively.
I’ve been signed off work for the week to treat vertigo, but rest doesn’t feel like relief. It feels like falling behind. Every hour away from work chips away at my income, and every cent lost adds a new kind of pressure, one that doesn’t pause just because I’m meant to.
This has been my reality for a while now. I know things need to change, and I know I’m the one who needs to make those changes. But how do you transform your life when you can barely steal a moment for yourself?
There’s a quiet helplessness threading through all of this. It’s lonely and isolating, this feeling of being caught between what your body needs and what your circumstances demand.
The vertigo makes my world spin, but it’s nothing compared to the dizziness of trying to survive in a system that punishes you for being human, for needing rest, for getting sick, for having limits.
For now, I’m letting the smallest things anchor me: a warm drink, a quiet room, a breath that doesn’t rush toward the next obligation.
Maybe that’s all I can manage today.
Maybe that’s not just enough—maybe it’s everything.
