After working nonstop for two months without a single day off, I finally get to breathe a little today. Alhamdulillah.
But instead of purely enjoying my rest, I’ve been thinking about something heavy and something that feels a bit toxic: guilt.
As a child who deeply loves her parents, I’ve always wanted to make them happy and comfortable in their older years. That’s the main reason I work hard every day. I work from home, and I’m grateful that this job allows me to contribute while taking care of my parents, even though a part of me also wants to spread my wings to pursue my own dreams. 😅😁 Still, no matter how much I try, I can’t shake off this constant guilt that creeps in every time I stop moving.
My parents are elderly, yet they never stop working. They own a paddy field, and when the planting season comes, most of the farmers in our area, my parents included head to the field. The thing is, I can’t really help them there. My world revolves around my laptop, words, and deadlines. So, when I finish my articles earlier than expected, I sometimes lie down on my bed, scrolling through my phone to relax for a bit.
But that’s exactly when the guilt hits me.
A voice inside says, “How can you rest when your parents are still out there working under the sun?” I start to feel like I don’t deserve rest until they come home.
Isn’t that strange? Even though I’ve done my job for the day, I still feel as if I must keep being productive because to me resting feels like being lazy.
I try to justify myself by doing house chores: cleaning, sweeping, mopping the floor, tidying up the yard, and washing the dishes when my mom hasn’t done it yet. (No matter how many times I tell her to leave the dishes for me, she always says, “Why should I wait when I can do it now?” She knows I have other responsibilities, so she still wants to help.) For fulfilling my time, I even sew little decorations, like ribbons, to beautify our curtains and many more (most importantly, I do something). Yet, no matter how much I do, the guilt doesn’t disappear.
Every day I tell myself: “You’ve worked, you’ve cleaned, you’ve helped. Isn’t that enough?” But my heart keeps whispering, “No, not yet. Your parents are still in the field.”
One day, I asked my mom directly.
“Mother,” I said, “if I finish my job and all the house chores, then I lie down and scroll my phone while you both are still in the fields, is that okay? I feel guilty doing nothing.”
She smiled and said gently, “Of course it’s okay. You’ve already helped us by keeping the house clean and working hard on your own responsibility. That’s a blessing. Not every child does that sincerely. Why would you feel guilty? Don’t ever think being a good child means working twenty-four hours a day without rest. That’s not productivity, it’s exhaustion. Be calm. You work without rest in front of your laptop; we, in the field, often take breaks every few minutes. Don’t imagine us working endlessly. We rest too.”
Her words touched me deeply. I realized my parents didn’t want me to suffer from overthinking. They just wanted me to live peacefully, not constantly measuring my worth through labor. 🤍
Still, my guilt doesn’t only come from watching my parents work. It also appears in smaller and quieter moments like when I try to reward myself.
Many people celebrate their achievements by taking a break: going on a trip or enjoying good food. But for me, those things often bring guilt instead of joy. When I go on vacation, I might enjoy the trip itself like the wind and the view but once I arrive, I feel like I’m wasting time. My mind whispers, “You should be learning something right now. You should be working on another skill.”
Even when I enjoy my favorite food, I feel conflicted. I think of people who struggle to afford a proper meal, and suddenly my enjoyment disappears. I start to scold myself: “Why did you buy this? You know that many people are suffering?” :"(
This pattern has become a part of me. The older I get, the more I feel that I should put others first, even when it hurts me. I fear that my happiness might hurt someone else, while ironically, people who hurt me often don’t think twice about it. It’s a strange and exhausting kind of empathy. 🥺
I know, logically, that this mindset isn’t healthy. It’s not sustainable to feel guilty for every breath of rest or every small joy. But emotions aren’t always logical, are they? Sometimes guilt disguises itself as kindness. It tells us we’re being responsible, that we care. And yes, guilt can be useful, it reminds us to stay humble, to stay kind. But when guilt starts punishing you for simply existing or resting, it stops being empathy. It becomes self-punishment.
Lately, I’ve been learning to see things differently. My parents’ love is not measured by how much I take the responsibility, and my worth as their child isn’t defined by how little I rest. They’re happy seeing me healthy, cheerful, and peaceful. That alone brings them comfort.
Maybe the real meaning of productivity is balance. Not working until collapse, but being consistent while still allowing space for peace. Not denying yourself happiness because others are struggling, but being grateful enough to share that happiness in your own way.
It’s okay to enjoy your favorite drink.
It’s okay to take a nap after work.
It’s okay to enjoy a quiet Sunday without guilt.
You can still care about others and also care for yourself. They’re not opposites; they’re two parts of the same kindness. Because the more you nurture yourself, the more love you’ll have to give.
So today, instead of forcing myself to “do something useful,” I’ll do something peaceful: I’ll rest, pray, and maybe watch the sunset with my parents later. They’ll probably talk about the field, and I’ll tell them about the article I just wrote about guilt, love, and learning to breathe without apology.
And maybe, finally, I’ll smile without feeling like I owe the world an explanation. 🤍
