Leadership Essentials: Rest

I’m tired.

Not the kind of tired that a nap fixes. Not the dramatic burnout spiral. Just a slow, steady depletion that crept in after too many weeks of pushing, producing, moving. A weeklong road trip. A week of relentless hustle. One night out with friends that tipped me over the edge.

This morning I could feel it in my bones: I need rest.

And not in the self-care, scented-candle kind of way—though I’m not knocking that. I mean real rest. The kind that lets your mind go quiet. The kind that doesn’t wait until you crash.

But here’s the thing: we don’t build rest into leadership.

We build urgency.
We build hustle.
We build crisis management and responsiveness and heroic recovery stories.

We admire the leader who shows up anyway. Who powers through. Who sacrifices. We measure their worth in output and endurance. And when they finally collapse, we call it inevitable.

It’s not.

Leaders like Arianna Huffington and thinkers like Tricia Hersey have been saying this for years:
Rest isn’t a luxury—it’s infrastructure.

In Rest Is Resistance, Hersey reframes rest as a fundamental human right, especially for those whose labor has historically been exploited. She challenges us to stop equating exhaustion with virtue.

Alex Soojung-Kim Pang takes it further in Rest: Why You Get More Done When You Work Less—showing that deep, intentional rest actually fuels creative breakthroughs and sustainable leadership. That rest isn’t the thing you do after the work—it’s what makes the work possible.

But most of us—especially women, especially parents, especially high-achievers—don’t feel like we’ve earned it. Not unless we’re falling apart.

And if you’re leading in systems that don’t protect time, that don’t respect capacity, that don’t value reflection? Rest can feel like failure.

I’ve led while exhausted.
I’ve made decisions I later regretted because I didn’t pause.
I’ve said yes to things I shouldn’t have, just to keep pace.
I’ve ignored the signals until they showed up as illness, detachment, or complete shutdown.

So now I try to listen earlier.

To notice when the fog sets in.
To hear the difference between effort and depletion.
To step back before I have to crawl away.

This isn’t about perfection or balance. I’m not writing this from a place of mastery. I’m writing it from the edge of needing a break.

But maybe that’s the point.

Rest isn’t what you earn after you’ve done your job.
It’s what allows you to do the job well.

And if we want leaders who are clear, grounded, and emotionally intelligent—we need to stop glamorizing exhaustion.

Because I don’t want to follow someone who never rests.
I want to follow someone who knows when to stop.

Take this as your permission slip—if you need one.
To pause.
To protect your capacity.
To rest.

You don’t have to crash first.