Why your value isn’t measured by how much you get done when you’re struggling
There’s this voice in your head that whispers you’re only doing okay if you’re still functioning. Like the fact that you answered some emails or showed up to work means you must be fine. Or at least fine enough. And if you’re not getting things done? Then something must be wrong with you.
But what if that voice is wrong? What if functioning isn’t the measure of your worth at all?
I’ve had days when I got out of bed, made coffee, responded to messages, and still felt like I was barely there. Just going through the motions. Not because I was lazy or unmotivated, but because something inside me was tired in a way that rest couldn’t fix. And yet, I told myself, “At least I’m functioning.” Like that was the thing that made it okay.
Productivity as a mask
We live in a world that glorifies being productive, even in pain. We post about pushing through. We admire people who “keep going no matter what.” But all of that makes it so easy to miss the people who are quietly struggling while looking “fine.”
Sometimes we function because we’re afraid of what will happen if we don’t. We go to work because we need the distraction. We answer messages because silence might worry people. We keep moving so we don’t have to feel what’s under the surface.
And while that’s understandable, it can also trap us. Because if we believe our ability to cope is the same thing as being okay, we stop giving ourselves permission to rest. To pause. To not be okay without having to justify it.
You are more than what you do
Your worth isn’t something that needs to be earned through tasks or results. It’s not measured in emails sent or dishes washed or errands run. It exists even when you’re lying on the floor, exhausted, unsure of what you’re feeling.
There’s strength in simply surviving. In naming that you’re not okay. In admitting that your heart feels heavy even if your calendar looks full.
We need to let go of this belief that being useful makes us lovable. That being consistent makes us safe. That being “fine” makes us good. Because none of those things are true. You’re worthy when you’re productive and when you’re not. You’re valuable when you show up and when you cancel. You matter, even on your quietest, slowest days.
Learning to rest without guilt
Letting go of this idea takes time. It means saying no to that extra task when your body’s already tense. It means lying down when the dishes are still in the sink. It means letting someone else take over, even if they don’t do it the way you would.
It’s choosing to believe that being still isn’t a failure. That resting isn’t weakness. That healing takes space, and you’re allowed to take up that space.
You don’t have to be functional to be worthy. You’re enough right now. Even in the silence. Even when all you did today was breathe.