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How to Rest When You Can't Switch Off

  • Writer: Chloe Markham
    Chloe Markham
  • 7 days ago
  • 3 min read

Time off used to be a delight when I had a ‘normal’ job. I was working in a role I didn’t care about, for bosses I didn’t care about, in a marketing agency where souls and plants went to die. They had a manifesto on the wall that didn’t in any way translate to the culture, spending too long in the kitchen or the bathroom was frowned upon, and leaving on time wasn’t showing commitment to the company. I felt like I was chained to my desk Monday to Friday, and time off became the antidote to all of it. The things I’d do with my freedom! The weekends came and I spent them probably like most folks who work a nine-to-five: re-establishing myself within my own life again — trying to keep my houseplant habit under control, watching travel shows with my partner, converting an old Renault Master — before Monday came and those invisible chains were replaced.


Time off as an entrepreneur is different. I no longer knew how to take it, how to spend it, and because there’s always work to be done and no one else responsible for it, I might as well just plough on. Except this is a perfect recipe for burnout and disillusion. I spent years burning out, over and over again. Until I finally woke up and realised I was replacing those invisible chains I worked hard to leave behind with ones of my own making.


Time off, then. I’d add it to my calendar, procrastinate about it, skip it entirely. The concept became overwhelming — what was I supposed to do with this mysterious time? I knew what I’d like to do — read, create, adventure, do the things that re-established myself within my life outside of my work, just like before — but the concept was too vague, so I’d wiggle out of it. I knew, though, that I couldn’t keep burning out, that something had to change. How could I carve out time away from my work without feeling overwhelmed?


Introducing: study time.


Person lounging on a teal couch reads an open book in a dim, cozy room with a decorative pillow and soft lighting.


Our brains are so fucked from a culture of overworking, over-optimising, overthinking, and making every last inch of our sanity productive, that we can no longer sit and be idle without effort. I’m clearly no exception, time off just wasn’t happening for me.


So instead of forcing a vague notion of simply not doing work, I replaced it with something concrete: study time. Study time allows me to feel productive, useful, like I’m growing (despite the fact I don’t need to be doing these things at all). In this allotted space, I read, play music, visit a new place, make art, move… it doesn’t matter what I do, as long as I can somehow justify it as a learning period.


And as a writer and business owner, as a creative and world-betterer, we can justify almost anything as fodder for learning and insight — hunting perfect pelts on the video game Red Dead Redemption, reading the latest Dan Brown, going to the coast for the afternoon… anything can offer inspiration for the next creative spark.


Study time has become a sacred slot in my calendar that, ironically, also fuels the magic of my business. It’s helped me rebuild my creativity, reconnect with hobbies and outlets I desperately need to stay functional and motivated, and engage with the world outside of my work again. I had no idea what I was missing, until I rediscovered it.


Sure, we’re all messed up because of our culture of endless productivity porn, but this is about working with it, instead of letting it consume us or attempting to rewire our brains. And study time is exactly that for me.


As artist Austin Kleon says, “You’re often most creative when you’re the least productive.” With that in mind, I’m off to craft a new beaver-pelt hat for Arthur…




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