After an entire year of rushing this project or that engagement, saying “oh, I’ll take leave next month”, and repeating that promise every single month, it gradually started catching up to me. It took me a while to understand that taking leave only when you’re sick or travelling aren’t the only valid reasons. You can also take leave for mental health days — which was what I did this past week. I used up a few of my ALs for mental health days where I proceeded to do absolutely nothing.
I didn’t take leave to travel, to be productive, or to “reset” anything. I took leave because I was tired in a way sleep alone couldn’t fix. The kind of tired where you’re still showing up, still replying emails, still doing everything you’re supposed to do — but inside, everything feels a little stretched. Joy was getting harder to come by. I had to force myself to be excited for things and show up for people in my life. I could feel myself losing the spark, just quietly running on empty. And somehow, that scared me and snapped something into place — I needed a break.
The guilt around taking a mental health day
There’s this unspoken rule in corporate life that leave has to be “earned”. You take time off because you’re travelling, because you’re sick, because something big is happening, or because you’re visibly burnt out. But taking a few days off just to rest? To sit at home, to breathe, to do nothing? That feels wrong. Or at least, it feels like something you need to justify.
I had that familiar internal debate — am I really that tired? am I being dramatic? should I just push through one more week? should I use these days for some other better reason? And honestly, I probably could have pushed through. But that’s the thing. I always do.
What my mental health AL actually looked like
My mental health AL didn’t look like anything impressive. The first day, I still tried to be productive — to clean those dirty nooks and crannies of the house that stare you in the face when you have zero time. I finally had the time to get to it and clean, which did help me in a way.
But from day two, I slowed down. There was no alarm, no rushing, no pretending I was “on leave but still reachable”. I stayed in bed longer than planned. I sat by the window and watched my plants with a cup of tea. There was no grand healing routine, no perfectly curated self-care checklist, no dramatic breakthroughs. Just quiet.
I scrolled without guilt, stared at the ceiling, went for a slow walk with nowhere to be, and did very normal things — slowly. I even read a few books, a habit I had sorely gotten out of touch with. And somewhere in between all that nothing, something shifted. My shoulders dropped. My breathing softened. My mind stopped racing for a few hours. It didn’t fix everything, but it helped me feel human again.
“I was tired in a way sleep alone couldn’t fix.”
Rest doesn’t need to be productive
This is the part I’m still unlearning: rest doesn’t need to be productive to be valid. It doesn’t need to make me better at my job. It doesn’t need to result in clarity, motivation, or a fresh five-year plan. Sometimes, rest is just maintenance — like charging your phone before it hits one percent.
A day of bed rotting can really do wonders for your mental health. And a mental health day isn’t a luxury. It’s part of how I survive a life that asks a lot from me.
Learning to pause before the crash
I used to wait until exhaustion became obvious before I allowed myself to stop. Until everything felt unbearable. Until I was so overwhelmed that rest was unavoidable. Now, I’m trying something different. I’m trying to pause before the crash. Not because I’m healed or balanced, but because I’m tired of glamorising running on empty.
If you’ve been thinking about taking a day off just to breathe…
This is your sign that you don’t need a dramatic reason.
You don’t need a trip planned.
You don’t need to be at breaking point.
You don’t need to justify your tiredness.
Being human in a fast, demanding world is reason enough.
Maybe taking a day off won’t fix everything — but maybe it will soften things just enough for you to keep going, gently. And honestly, that’s enough.
A quiet closing note
If this piece resonated with you, you’re not alone.
This journal exists for moments like these — the quiet ones, the tired ones, the in-between ones.
You’re always welcome here.
— Mira Sol 🍃
The Slow Edit