I used to say yes to too many things. Especially if they were out in the future.

A working group next quarter? Sure. A meeting in two weeks? My calendar looks open. I’m drawn to interesting people and meaningful ideas, and I like being helpful. Add a strong sense of responsibility, and “yes” became my default.

I still say yes to things. Good things. Interesting challenges. Meaningful work. But I try to pay closer attention to what I’m saying yes to, and why. My ability to contribute anything of real value depends on having space to think. It requires rest. Without that space, I can still show up, but not the way I’d like to. With space and rest, I am better able to be fully present as I lead and engage.

Back in the “yes” days, there were always external demands beyond the pressure I created myself. I was running a growing services team, with payroll coming around every two weeks. It reminded me how many people depended on our success. In those years, rest often felt like something I couldn’t afford. Not because I didn’t value it, but because I couldn’t see how to make space for it.

What I’ve come to realize is that I can’t keep saying yes without also deciding what I’m going to say no to. And if rest never makes the “yes” list, everything else will eventually suffer.

The illusion of indispensability

I don’t think it’s weakness that leads to burnout. I think it’s often more about care and conviction. It’s about the deeply held belief that I’m holding something together that can’t be dropped.

But I’ve come to see I was never as indispensable as I thought.

I’ve felt that pull, especially in leadership. When people rely on me, when my name is tied to the work, it’s easy to start believing I’m essential. That if I let go, things will fall apart. But I’ve come to see I was never as indispensable as I thought.

As our team grew, I watched talented people step up. They took ownership, led with clarity, and made decisions I wouldn’t have made. Sometimes faster, often better. Ideas emerged that I hadn’t imagined. Initiatives moved forward without me in the room. It was inspiring. It was humbling. And it helped reset the self-imposed pressure I had carried for too long.

Being needed can feel like a form of validation. But it’s also a trap. Especially for founders. I found it easy to equate motion with value, and presence with leadership. Sometimes I stayed busy not because it was required, but because it was reassuring —to me.

But leadership isn’t about being everywhere. It’s about creating the conditions for others to thrive, even when I’m not there. And that only became possible when I began to trust that stepping back isn’t just good for me. It’s good for the people around me too.

The hidden cost of always being on

Celebrating hustle, hard work and productivity is a good thing, but not if we ignore the costs.

A McKinsey Health Institute survey of more than 30,000 employees in 30 countries found that only 57 percent felt they enjoyed good “holistic health,” a measure that covers mental, physical, social, and spiritual well-being. These numbers ring true to me. 

In my most exhausted seasons, I was still showing up, but not as thoughtful as I would have liked to be. I was quicker to react, slower to listen, and often operated from fear rather than a sense of purpose or meaning. The same reality played out on our team, when a young talented senior leader found himself utterly exhausted and unable to continue the pace he had been operating at. 

It can be costly to keep pushing for more stamina at the expense of our well-being. If we want to lead with clarity and intention, we need more than stamina. We need space and rest. 

Rest as a strategic lever

Now that I know rest isn’t something I earn after the work is done, it’s something I’ve learned to build into the work itself.

Without pauses, my perspective dulls.

I made space for strategy meetings, team offsites, and performance reviews—but rarely space for myself. Yet the same logic applies. Without pauses, my perspective dulls.

I have found that when I rest, my discernment returns and my presence sharpens. I’m at my best when I have space to think clearly, lead steadily, and act with intention. And despite what I used to think, that steadiness doesn’t come from more effort alone — it comes from rest.

How to rest when you can’t step away

I understand that some seasons offer no luxury of a sabbatical. But we are not helpless. Here are a few small things I’ve tried to build rest into the patterns of my week.

• Protect at least one hour a week for unstructured strategic time.
  Committing time to step back from the daily pressures to focus on the big picture has been invaluable for me.
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• Book exercise in my calendar. Run with no headphones.
  Rest and exercise are strangely connected. I regularly run with no headphones, just to clear my mind or think. I’m often surprised at the energy boost I get from unplugging this way. 
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• Start the day with a moment of rest and intention.
  While working in Europe the past few years, I discovered the value of setting my day up well. A later start time helped me see the positive  impact of taking 30 minutes to reflect and consider my intentions for the day before the busy demands set in. 

These small practices of mine aren’t glamorous, revolutionary or unique to me. But they have been small parts of building an internal architecture that values and cultivates rest.

Rest and exercise are strangely connected.

Model it for those around you

When I experienced people on my team that were struggling with the demands of life and work, it pushed me to consider what I was modeling. 

How were my habits and propensities shaping my team and our culture?

We had healthy opportunities to talk about this together. We made small changes that, together, went a long way. Like scheduling an email to arrive on Monday at 10am rather than sending it over the weekend. We all worked at modeling rest and valuing it in the everyday lives of the team members. 

my performance —and that of our team— was consistently better, not worse, when we prioritized our health and the space needed to be at our best.

The tide in the market right now is shifting back to all-out-work and a stiff upper lip. But my experience is that my performance —and that of our team— was consistently better, not worse, when we prioritized our health and the space needed to be at our best. 

When rest is modeled by a leader, it is a form of permission-giving. It tells people they are trusted. 

Resting is not a waste of time. It's an investment in well-being.

I have appreciated this quote from Adam Grant:

Resting is not a waste of time. It's an investment in well-being.
Relaxing is not a sign of laziness. It's a source of energy.
Breaks are not a distraction. They're a chance to refocus attention.
Play is not a frivolous activity. It's a path to connection and creativity.

When you stop, you begin to see

A week ago, I decided to use my morning moment to head out for a run. It turned out to be one of those rare runs where it feels like you could just keep going (not all feel that way). No phone. No headphones. No plan. Just movement, and quiet. And in that quiet, I noticed things I had overlooked in the week before. I was able to think through a few ideas I had only skimmed over earlier. I felt clearly the difference between urgency and intention.

I came back from that run with nothing dramatic. Just a bit more clarity, a bit more steadiness. I felt ready and able to choose what I say yes and no to with more purpose and intention. It wasn’t because I buckled down or focused harder. It was because I stopped, stepped away and gave myself the space and time I needed to see clearly again.