I can barely count how many times I have heard this in my life:
"Take a break, Stella!"
The truth is, for the longest time, I felt ashamed to even think about taking a break. It didn't make any sense. Almost like that word doesn't exist in my vocabulary. I know, partially, I could just make my heritage the culprit, but today, I believe it goes even deeper than just my Germanness.
Cultural origin can help make sense of something, but while we are influenced by our environments as humans, we are also our own masters. Everything we do, or do not do, in the end is an active choice we ourselves make, no matter how much our environment presses on us and our decision-making routines.
This is a short review of a life without breaks, a physical and emotional breakdown from which only the warmth of friends can truly help us return.
The Calendar That Measured My Worth
Looking back, I can't remember a single year where the rhythm of life wasn't dictated by an external hand. My father made me a calendar every single month when I was a kid. The routine was simple: Wake up, make breakfast for my mum, walk the dog(s), go to school, excel at school, walk home, warm up some canned food for myself, clean the dishes, iron everyone's clothing, do homework, excel at scheduled hobbies, and so on until the next day started and ended the same.
One thing stands out like a red elephant in a white room today to me: There was not one minute dedicated to something even resembling a pause, let alone a full break.
My childhood lived in a world where "good" was being average and "perfect" was the only goal that mattered. I was pushed to the edge where excellence became a performance and rest became a luxury. When I had all B's, it needed to be all A's. When I had all A's except for one, I had to undergo personal physical training to earn an A in athletics as well.
My parents only found achievements of mine interesting if they came with something very tangible, something that felt like a premium to them. For example, when I was published in Vogue Italia for my fashion design graduate collection. But not when I was accepted to that very university in the first place, which accepts only about 8 students per year.
One was a medal I could hold. The other was a process I had to live. I learned early on that my worth was tied to a tangible premium. Taking breaks was never a thing. Why would you pause when pausing meant you were falling behind the only metric that mattered: the output!
The Shield & The Drift
I liked to use my "Germanness" as an excuse and phrase it humorously to others who were obviously worried about me. Today, while conversing with other German friends, I realized that this idea of placing work at the center of our existence is almost an unavoidable urge.
Weirdly enough, it reminded me of World War II. During the holocaust, Nazi Germany put up huge signs above the disgusting concentration camps they built that literally said: "Arbeit macht frei." Work liberates. As if concentration camps wouldn't be horrible enough, they added this phrase and figured it was something to be proud of. I feel that image alone speaks more than a thousand words.
But in my twenties, my German heritage and parents' culture were no longer "in the same room." I had moved to Austria, a place that is much slower and less work-oriented. I had moved out and away, leaving a crazy mix of environmental influences behind.
Ideally, that should have been the awakening. That should have been when I first realized that taking a break is not a nice option to have, but something that belongs in everyone's routine.
But instead of facing that truth, I hid behind the "Germanness" shield. I built an obsession with control. Nothing else felt like I could control it, but I could at least control my output. My ADHD (at that time undiagnosed) was through the roof, speaking retrospectively. My emotional stability was on a constant rollercoaster. I could barely make a living with the jobs I had alongside my pretty demanding university classes.
I heard my friends tell me to take a break. But in my head, I knew they didn't have to worry about the basics, like food and shelter. If I had been a bit less stubborn, I would not have needed to worry about those either. But I was certain I needed to walk this very specific path, contrary to my parents' idea for my future. I was stubborn yet faithful to my own vision.
In retrospect, I am even glad about that stubbornness, because it gave me experiences and understanding I am today very proud to call my own. But at the time, it was just a way to keep the chaos at bay.
The Body Keeps the Ledger
Without my friends, I wouldn't have even realized something was wrong with me. I constantly felt tired and destroyed, but I thought, in all seriousness, that this was how life was supposed to feel.
Lucky for me, my friends were the ones to push me. They were persistent even when I was trying to shut them out. They were the ones who invited me to lovely dinners and escapes for the mind. When I wouldn't take breaks myself, they were the ones secretly creating them for me. Gradually, I realized I had to start doing this for myself and ultimately loving myself.
At the core, that was what was wrong with me. I didn't hate myself, but I also didn't love myself. I think the pause can only be granted to someone who thinks they are worthy of a reward. That was not my thought about myself for a very long time. In fact, it is still a struggle today.
The emotional breakdowns hit hard in my twenties. I did some pretty mean things without even consciously wanting to do them. But the physical breakdown has been happening for the past few years. I didn't even really take a break to listen to those signals. I finally and very recently got diagnosed with an autoimmune disease after over a decade of feeling extremely unwell, alongside some other diagnostics and realizations. Of course, there are genetic roots, but I refused to listen either way.
I tried micro-pausing, but I think I honestly just lied to myself. Seeing how my autoimmune system is on its last resources, and how tired I have been feeling since I started my treatment, feels like a wake-up call. The flare-ups of my disease, since I have begun treatment, sometimes make even walking a challenge. The pause is no longer a choice. It's a biological mandate.
Time Isn't in the Clock. It's in Us.
Recently, I picked up a book by Robert Poynton called "Pause/ No eres una lista de tareas pendientes." ( Do Pause - You are not a To Do list )
I found it in one of my favorite bookstores here in Lima, Book Vivant . On many instances, I felt like closing the book because much of what he is saying rings too true.
It lands heavily because I have used the words "break" and "pause" before only to calm my friends. I said it so they'd believe I was resting, just to lower the ambient pressure around me. But now, I am at a point where I literally don't have another option.
One of the first quotes that stood out to me from the book clearly puts the responsibility back into our hands, away from cultural heritage, made-up shields, and potential excuses:
"El tiempo no está en el reloj, está en nosotros."
[Time isn't in the clock, it's in us.]
We are sovereign beings, most of us. Yet we tend to make the wrong choices for ourselves, our lives, and our health.
I blame myself because ultimately, I feel no one can listen as well to ourselves, to our inner selves, as just us. No one on the outside can truly hear our thoughts; only we can. I am not trying to blame myself, but I am a huge fan of technological sovereignty and decentralization. That comes with a strong belief in self-responsibility. In the end, it is healthy to admit that all of this still has an origin, and that origin is how I grew up. But now, as I have grown up, I do have responsibility for my own wellbeing. Both things can be true at the same time.
The Continuation of a Thought
Objectively, I know what I've built. I am highly productive, not just for myself but also in helping others. I give a damn about this world we live in, sadly unlike many. I am a vegan. I create open source technology. I lead an open community for creators to co-educate. I solve problems on the backbone of design and care about fellow humans, especially my friends and my three adopted dogs.
I have turned out to be a human that deserves to breathe the oxygen our rainforests produce.
But my heart feels heavy and undeserving either way.
This article doesn't have a solution. I love designing solutions as a designer, but this one doesn't. It just means I was ready to face my inner truth, even though it is painful. I wanted to write it because I know there are other Stella's out there. Most creators have similar issues. That we exist at the border of poverty doesn't help, and it wasn't just my experience in my twenties. Financial security is a strong foundation for better physical and mental health. To speak plainly, it is sadly still a privilege. It is important to observe and acknowledge, even though I have that privilege today.
This falls under Journaling. It is the one pillar on my blog that doesn't require a designed solution. It is just raw thought. But I share it because I want to encourage others to face their inner truth, too. It lifts the weight, even for just a short period. Observing ourselves more clearly may eventually lead to greater self-love.
I don't know how to take a break yet. But I am learning how to sit still without apologizing for it. And for now, that is enough.
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