Sit the F* Down Somewhere
You don’t need another productivity hack.
You don’t need a new planner.
You don’t need to rearrange your closet again to feel in control of your life.
What you need is rest.
Real rest.
Not doom-scrolling until you fall asleep with your phone on your chest.
Not half-asleep with Netflix asking if you’re still watching.
Not collapsing on the couch because your body gave out before your willpower did.
I’m talking about the kind of rest that feels almost foreign. The kind that forces you to put the phone down, unclench your jaw, and stop trying to earn your right to breathe. And if that made you uncomfortable, that’s the problem.
Rest makes you uneasy because stillness exposes what the busyness hides.
DEMI WILDE
You’ve spent so long confusing motion with meaning that the idea of slowing down feels like failure. You’ve tied your worth to how much you can juggle. You’ve learned to mistake exhaustion for excellence. You’ve worn burnout like proof of purpose.
And now, you don’t even know who you are when you’re not doing.
You say you want peace, but the moment things get quiet, you start reaching for noise again. Cleaning obsessively. Overworking. Starting projects you have no business starting and no will to complete so you wont feel guilty about doing nothing. And then you call it “being productive,” but really, it’s just avoidance.
Because in the stillness, there’s nowhere to hide from the truth. No distractions to blame. Just you—face-to-face with everything you’ve been outrunning.
You can not heal in motion.
You’re trying to heal while staying busy.
You’re trying to grow without grounding.
You’re trying to “grow through what you go through” while running on fumes.
But you can’t fix what you refuse to slow down long enough to see, my love.
Clarity lives in quiet.
Alignment lives in stillness.
Healing lives in rest.
You keep pushing yourself like you’re in a race, but you never stop to ask—where am I even going? And if I get there, will I even want to stay? Because, in all actuality, peace sounds good until it requires your participation. Until slowing down starts to feel like losing control. Until you realize that you’ve mistaken chaos for momentum.
You’re not running toward purpose, you’re running from discomfort.
And the only way out of it… is to sit the fuck down.
You don’t need another goal, fren. You need to learn how to sit with yourself.
Rest isn’t weakness. It isn’t laziness. And it damn sure isn’t optional. It’s how you recalibrate, how you regulate, how you stop confusing chaos with purpose.
You want clarity? Sit down. You want alignment? Sit down. You want to stop feeling like you’re falling apart every other week? Sitcho ass down.
Let your nervous system breathe. Let your body exhale. Let your spirit catch up with the version of you you’re trying to become—because that’s the part we miss. The version you’re becoming needs rest to exist.
The Letters
There are parts of us that learned how to survive before we ever learned how to rest. Parts that tied our worth to our output. Parts that feel guilty sitting still.
These letters are for her.
For the versions of us who forgot that we’re allowed to slow down. For the ones who only rest when their body forces it. For the caretakers, the overachievers, the “I’m fine” girlies, the ones who push through everything.
You don’t have to earn your right to breathe.
These are reminders for the days you forget.
And I’m probably going to yell at you… with love, of course.
You don’t have to be productive to be worthy.
DEMI WILDE
You don’t have to be falling apart to finally sit down.
You don’t have to earn the right to do nothing.
To the One Who Thinks Rest Must Be Earned
If the thought of rest makes you feel guilty, this is for you. If you feel like you haven’t done enough to “deserve” a break, this is for you. If you don’t even know what rest looks like because your nervous system has been in fight-or-flight since we had to be in the house before the street lights came on, this is especially for you.
Let me be clear:
Rest is a birthright. Not a reward.
The gag is, if you’re only letting yourself rest once you’ve reached the edge of burnout, that’s self-neglect, fren.
And the worst part is that you’ve learned to call it success. You’ve trained yourself to believe that being exhausted means you’re “doing something right”. That rest is a reward only earned by pushing yourself past your limits. It is not. That’s the conditioning talking. That’s unhealed hustle trauma. That’s your self-worth being tied to how much you produce, not how well you exist.
You don’t have to break down before you give yourself permission to slow down.
You don’t need a crisis to justify taking care of yourself. You don’t need to earn rest with pain.
Discipline is powerful—yes. But discipline without compassion is just another form of punishment. You’re not here to prove your worth through your exhaustion. You’re here to live. Period. And you can’t live fully when your body only gets to stop once it’s already shutting down.
Your soft life awaits, and all it takes to begin? Is for you to sit down. Unapologetically.
I love you.
Now sit tf down somewhere.
Amen? Amen. 🤎
To the Wives, the Mamas, the Caregivers
I know.
You feel like there’s not enough hours in a day. You’ve got a schedule, a to-do list, people depending on you. Your rest always seems to come last, if at all.
But hear me out. It’s not that you don’t have time. It’s that you don’t make it.
If your child needed something, you’d make time. If your partner needed connection, you’d make time. If your friend called and said, “I miss you,” you’d find a way to fit it in. So why does your peace always get rescheduled?
Stop lying to yourself about not having time to rest. You make time for what you prioritize. And if you’re not prioritizing you, that’s not selflessness—it’s self-abandonment, darling.
You think you’re showing up as your best by running on empty, but all you’re doing is modeling burnout as a lifestyle. Pushing the wheel instead of breaking it.
Plan your rest. Schedule your rest. Put it on the calendar like you would a meeting you can’t cancel. Prioritize it and make sure it gets done. No setbacks. No interruptions. And if that feels foreign or “extra,” ask yourself why you’re the only one who doesn’t deserve structure around your peace.
You deserve to be cared for, too. To be held too. You deserve to be a whole person—not just a provider.
Sit down, love.
Make the decision to include yourself in the “everyone” you’ve been caring for.
I do not care what your mother or your grandmother or her grandmother did before her. They were tired too. Sit down. On THEIR behalf.
Be good to you, always. 🤎
To the Ones Who Call It Ambition: The Workaholics
I know you. I was you.
You’re the one who’s always moving. Always fixing, planning, managing, handling, holding, carrying. Your mind doesn’t sit still, and your body hasn’t rested in years. Not real rest. The kind where you sleep so long, you’re not sure what day it is when you finally awake.
You are tired.
You are overworked.
And you are not built to grind yourself endlessly into the ground.
Let’s get everybody together real quick:
To the Retail Workers and 9–5ers:
Stop killing yourself to fatten someone else’s pockets.
You clock in, you give your all, and then what? They give you a 25-cent raise and a pizza party. FOH.
What does PTO mean, class?
Prepare. The. Others. Not “Please Try Overworking.” Not “Postpone Til Overwhelmed.” Not “Permission To Only Use in Emergencies.” Being tired IS the emergency.
You do not owe your labor in exchange for validation. You do not have to prove how loyal you are to a company that would replace you in a week. Take the day. Use the hours. Stop waiting until you’re crying in the car, in the bathroom, in the breakroom, to finally whisper, “I need a break.”
And if they fire you? GOOD. That job wasn’t your assignment. That wasn’t your last stop. That wasn’t your forever. Because at the end of the day? The day will end. And if taking care of yourself makes you inconvenient to the job, then why are you still sacrificing yourself to stay? Any place that punishes you for being human is not a place that deserves your gifts. You are not lucky to have that job. The job is lucky to have YOU. And if it is costing you your mind, your body, and your joy? It’s too expensive.
There’s more. There’s better. But you’ll never see it if you’re too exhausted to even look. And if there is one thing Gen Z has taught us? It’s to get TF up and leave these jobs the moment they start playing in your face. No explanation. No tears. Just exit stage left and reclaim your peace.
To the Corporate Baddies:
You ain’t tired of being the face of the “team effort” while someone else takes the credit?
You ain’t tired of pretending that being overworked means being important?
Let’s keep it a buck and a half. You care so much about being “on point” that you forgot to check in with yourself. The gag is: Prioritizing yourself doesn’t mean you don’t take your job seriously—it means you take your humanity seriously. And if they don’t respect your boundaries, they don’t deserve your brilliance.
Period.
To the Entrepreneurs:
Don’t make me pop your hand.
I’ve been there. I am there. I get it.
Being a one-woman show feels powerful—until it starts feeling like self-destruction.
You left the 9–5 so you could live, not hustle yourself into a hole with your own name on it.
Freedom isn’t just about being the boss. It’s about being the one who decides, “Today, I rest.”
If you don’t have a day off built into your business, you’re not running a brand—you’re running a burnout machine.
DO TF BETTER.
And to the Ones Doing Both? Come Here.
You clock in. You create content. You fulfill orders. You answer emails. You parent. You love. You survive. But when do you rest? When do you eat, breathe, exist… for you?
If you can make time for a deadline, you can make time for a nap.
You are not exempt from the need for rest just because your dreams are big.
A burnt-out version of you can’t hold the weight of the life you’re building.
So SIT. TF. DOWN.
Your grind doesn’t make you worthy. Your exhaustion doesn’t make you noble. Your burnout isn’t your badge.
Rest is the flex now, Bookie.
You’re Not a Machine. You’re a Whole Person
You don’t have to earn your right to rest. You don’t have to explain why you’re tired. You don’t have to deserve rest to need it.
Sit down.
You’ve been carrying more than your share for way too long.
Be good, always. 🤎
Affirmation of the Day
DEMI WILDE
Rest is not a reward. It is my right.
I honor my limits. I give myself permission to be still.
Before you go, remember: this isn’t just about taking naps or “self-care.”
This is about reclaiming your humanity. Your nervous system. Your peace.
Every space you show up in — home, work, friendships, motherhood, partnership — is impacted by how well you are resourced. If you are always exhausted, you are not living. You are maintaining.
You don’t have to earn your right to pause.
You don’t have to apologize for needing rest.
You don’t have to explain why you’re tired.
Protect your energy like it matters — because it does. Your rest is not up for negotiation.
Put it on the calendar. Guard it. Keep it sacred.
You are allowed to slow down.
