On Failing to Rest (And Starting a Rest Company Anyway)

When I was nine years old, I didn’t play shops.
I set up an office.

There was a desk, a rotary phone, and a full schedule of imaginary calls to very important people.
I was the CEO of Productivity, aged nine-and-a-half.

And in many ways, I never really stopped.

Twenty years in advertising. Another twenty as a freelance copywriter and brand strategist.
Launched a yoga platform. Closed it.
Wrote three books. Ran marketing workshops for yoga teachers. Redesigned other people’s brands in between rethinking my own.

And somewhere in all of that… I forgot how to rest.

Oh, I take breaks...
I march. Fast walks, because they are good for cardiovascular health and something called "longevity".
My breaks usually involve folding laundry or reorganising the spice rack.
I’m excellent at productive pausing. Less good at being still.

The kind of rest I long for?
The clouds-through-the-window kind. The book-falling-on-your-face kind.
The kind where no one is watching. Not even your own inner taskmaster.

I’ve always equated doing with deserving.
Work hard, earn the break.
Tick enough boxes, and maybe - maybe - I get to lie down.

Even then, it’s a lie-down with a podcast about gut health or a book on productivity habits. I call this “relaxing with outcomes.”

The wiring runs deep.
Somewhere early on, I picked up the idea that being useful was the safest way to exist. That stillness was suspicious - a kind of absence at best, laziness at worst.
Better to keep doing. Better to be needed.

Which makes rest… complicated.

Because rest isn’t something you earn.
It’s something you allow.
And sometimes, allowing feels like the hardest bit.

Here’s the irony. I started a company about rest.
Norfolk Eye Pillows. Weighted, lavender-scented, made with care.
A company that whispers: “You don’t need to earn your pause.”

And yet, most days I still feel I do.

Because doing is easy.
It has metrics. Lists. Praise.
Being is harder. It doesn’t come with gold stars or Google Calendar alerts.
Being asks you to stop. To feel. To wait.

Which, if you’ve been practising busy since you were nine, is quietly terrifying.

But I’m trying.

Sometimes I lie down. Properly. For a whole ten minutes.
I close the curtains, put an eye pillow over my eyes, and let the world carry on without me.
Nothing happens.
Which is exactly the point.

And maybe that’s why I created Norfolk Eye Pillows. Not because I’ve mastered rest.
But because I need the reminder, every day.

If rest feels elusive, you’re not alone.
Tell me - what gets in your way?
You don’t have to overcome it.
Just name it. Sit with it.
And if you do lie down, let it be for no reason other than you choose to, not because it’s on your list.
Rest doesn’t need to be productive.
It just needs to be yours.

Take a moment. 

Image: Reclining Figure (2000) by Aaron Shikler