For years, I equated rest with laziness.
A day without output felt like failure — a betrayal of the creative momentum I’d worked so hard to build. The freelance world doesn’t give you permission to pause; it rewards the ones who never stop.
But the truth is, endless productivity is a form of punishment dressed as ambition.
It took me a decade — and one catastrophic year — to realize that rest isn’t withdrawal.
It’s rebellion.
In 2024, I worked every single day for ten months straight.
Not figuratively — literally every day. I called it “discipline.”
Looking back, it was depletion masquerading as drive.
The Marathon That Broke Me 🏃♂️🔥
IThe year began with a rush of projects that thrilled and terrified me in equal measure.
At Botanical Chemist, Palm Cove, I managed Tanya Goodwin’s LinkedIn thought leadership and ESG-focused blog — crafting stories of sustainable beauty that connected product ethics with planetary care.
At the same time, I wrote detailed show notes and long-form webinar analyses for CaliberMind’s “Revenue Marketing Report” and RevOps Co-op’s “RevOps AF” — both content-heavy, research-driven assignments requiring precision and speed.
And as the year closed, I dove into Paul Williams’ Meliora, developing deep-dive pieces dissecting the 17 UN Sustainable Development Goals, one by one — the kind of work that felt like purpose but demanded constant vigilance.
Days blurred. Weekends vanished.
I was a one-man agency, juggling deliverables across time zones.
Clients were happy, invoices cleared, and my reputation grew, but my reserves quietly drained.
I told myself: “It’s only temporary.”
But temporary lasted ten months.
The Collapse: Burnout, Paranoia & Portreiz 💔
By December 2024, I was a live wire.
The insomnia had become default.
My schizophrenia-induced paranoia, which I’d managed for years, surged under the weight of exhaustion and isolation.
One night, something snapped. I spiraled — destroyed my own belongings in a haze of fear and confusion.
My wife, Phanice, panicked.
In desperation, she enlisted help — strangers who broke into our home, forcibly restrained me, drugged me, and sent me to Portreiz Mental Unit.
Two weeks behind locked doors.
Two weeks of sedation, silence, and the gnawing anxiety that my clients — my lifeline — would think I’d disappeared.
When I was discharged, I reached out to all of them.
Not one replied.
The same people who had once relied on my speed and dedication vanished without acknowledgment.
No goodbye. No inquiry.
Just… absence.
That was my wake-up call:
In the gig economy, loyalty doesn’t guarantee safety.
Ghosted but Not Gone 👣
January 2025 began quietly, painfully.
My inbox stayed empty, but my mind — though fragile — started to clear.
At first, the silence hurt.
But slowly, it became sacred.
For the first time in years, I heard myself think.
I realized that my identity had fused with my output — and that I’d allowed clients to rent not just my time, but my peace.
So I decided to rebuild, differently.
I turned my focus inward — to projects that couldn’t ghost me.
I poured my energy into briannjenga.co.ke, crafting every word and pixel as both portfolio and therapy.
I started writing again, not for deadlines, but for direction.
And I returned to “Echoes of Valor,” my debut historical fiction novel about Mekatilili wa Menza.
I promised myself to finish it not for validation, but for my daughter, Haidee, to show her that even after collapse, creation remains possible.
Rest as Resistance 🌙
That’s when I began taking midweek time off unapologetically.
Tuesdays, sometimes Thursdays. I step away from the laptop, silence notifications, and spend the day walking the Mombasa shoreline or reading African history under the palm shadows.
It began as recovery.
It became ritual.
I call it Rest as Resistance — a philosophy inspired by Tricia Hersey’s The Nap Ministry, but shaped by my African, neurodivergent, gig-worker reality.
In a world that demands constant output, rest is rebellion.
It’s a refusal to let capitalism colonize our bodies and minds.
For me, rest is:
- 🧘♂️ Psychological repair — reclaiming the mental stillness burnout stole.
- 🌿 Spiritual grounding — reminding myself that life is not a project plan.
- 💡 Creative reset — where ideas bloom, precisely because nothing is being forced.
Taking midweek rest isn’t laziness; it’s leadership.
It says, “My worth is not measured by exhaustion.”
Lessons from the Gig Trenches ⚙️
1️⃣ The Myth of Infinite Output
Clients often expect constant availability, mistaking responsiveness for reliability.
But creativity is cyclical — not linear.
When we push beyond the natural rhythm of thought and rest, we don’t produce more. We produce worse.
2️⃣ The Gig Economy’s Invisible Trap
Freelancers operate without nets — no HR, no health insurance, no downtime clause.
When I crashed, there was no sick leave, no empathy, no system to catch me.
This is the quiet cruelty of gig work: the market applauds your hustle until your humanity interrupts it.
3️⃣ Neurodivergence and Overload
As someone living with schizophrenia, stress doesn’t just exhaust me — it distorts perception.
Managing creativity with a neurodivergent brain demands not discipline but compassion.
The industry must evolve to accommodate brains that work differently — with flexible deliverables, slower timelines, and understanding over urgency.
4️⃣ Isolation Is a Silent Killer
Working alone for months on end eroded my sense of grounding.
Paranoia thrives in isolation. Connection, even digital, restores perspective.
Now, I schedule check-ins with friends and fellow freelancers as intentionally as I schedule client calls.
5️⃣ Transparency Is Boundary-Setting
I’ve learned to be upfront with new clients: I don’t work seven-day weeks.
I don’t over-promise. I prioritize mental health.
And you know what?
The right clients respect that.
Boundaries are not barriers.
They’re architecture for longevity.
Wisdom Earned the Hard Way 💡
Some lessons arrive softly.
Others arrive with sirens and locked hospital doors.
These are the truths I carry forward:
- 🌿 Rest is productive when it preserves purpose.
- 💬 Say no before you collapse.
- 🧠 Mental health is not a liability — it’s the foundation of creativity.
- 🤝 Choose clients who see you as human, not bandwidth.
My new workflow is simple but sacred:
- No calls after 6 p.m.
- Midweek rest days.
- Creative journaling every Sunday.
- Digital detox weekends once a month.
Every boundary is a prayer for peace.
From Burnout to Balance: A Personal Manifesto 🔥
I no longer worship busyness.
I no longer equate exhaustion with excellence.
I’ve learned that rest is not a break from greatness; it’s what makes greatness sustainable.
“I will not sacrifice my mind for metrics.
I will create, but not at the cost of myself.”
My story isn’t a cautionary tale.
It’s a reclamation song — for every freelancer, creator, or neurodivergent professional told to “push through.”
We cannot pour from broken vessels.
Rest is how we refill them.
A Note to My Fellow Creators 🌺
To those quietly burning behind bright screens — this is your permission slip.
Take the day off. Take the week if you must.
The work will wait. The soul won’t.
Build boundaries before breakdowns.
Nurture friendships before deadlines.
And remember: you are not the sum of your invoices; you are the steward of your own flame.
Your mind is sacred ground.
Treat it as such.
Work With a Writer Who Knows When to Pause ⚓
Ready to build meaningful, human-first content strategies?
At JBN Content Consultancy, I help brands and solopreneurs craft digital stories that breathe.
✅ Copywriting grounded in empathy and purpose.
✅ SEO storytelling that honors balance, not burnout.
✅ Strategy that converts through connection, not chaos.
Let’s co-create content that sustains, not depletes:
Because rest isn’t weakness.
It’s wisdom.
And resistance, sometimes, sounds like silence. 🌙
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