"If you get tired, learn to rest, not quit." - Banksy

You think that if you stop, everything will fall apart.

Your job. Your visa. Your ability to stay in Singapore. The custody case. The one thing you're still good at. The only identity you have left that makes sense.

So you drag yourself to school every morning. You paste on a smile when your students ask if you're okay. You say you're fine when colleagues gently check in. Your bosses have even offered you time off, but you said no.

Because in your mind, taking a break means you're weak. It means you can't handle it. It means you're going to lose the one thing that's keeping you afloat right now.

I know this. Because once upon a time, that was me too.

The Day I Couldn't Pretend Anymore

Back then, I didn't realise my bosses were being genuinely kind when they suggested I take time off. I thought they were hinting that I wasn't coping, that I was failing. I didn't realise my colleagues were trying to support me, not judge me. I didn't realise my body was screaming at me to stop.

I thought stopping meant giving up. So I kept going. Until I couldn't anymore.

In the end, I lost my job anyway. Not because I took a break. But because I refused to give myself one.

What I Wish Someone Had Told Me

I wish someone had told me back then, that it was okay to take a rest. I wish someone had told me if you have been running on empty for too long, it will make the decision for you. And when that happens, you don't get to choose how you stop. You just stop.

I'm not saying our situations are the same. Your story is yours. But if you've been reading my posts for a while now, and you're still here, I'm going to assume you trust me enough to let me look you in the eye and say this:

Stop. It's okay.

Rest is not the same as quitting. Rest is what lets you keep going.

The Difference Between Resting and Quitting

When you quit, you walk away from something that matters to you. When you rest, you're protecting it.

Your students need you. But they need you whole, not broken. Your child needs you. But she needs a mother who can breathe, not one who's drowning. Your job needs you. But it needs someone who can actually be present, not someone running on fumes.

If you keep pushing through when your body is begging you to stop, that's not strength. That's just fear dressed up as perseverance.

Real strength is knowing when to pause. Real courage is admitting you need help. Real wisdom is understanding that you can't pour from an empty cup.

What Rest Actually Looks Like

Rest doesn't mean you're giving up on your life. It doesn't mean you're a bad teacher or a bad mother. It doesn't mean you can't handle things.

It means you're human. And humans need to breathe.

Maybe rest looks like taking that week off your boss offered. Maybe it's saying no to one extra responsibility. Maybe it's letting your friends help instead of insisting you're fine. Maybe it's just sitting in silence for ten minutes without scrolling through your phone, catastrophising about the future.

You've been carrying this for so long. The divorce. The custody worries. The visa stress. The fear of judgment. The weight of trying to hold everything together while everything falls apart.

That's too much for one person. It was always too much.

You're Not Alone

If you're still reading this and thinking, "But if I stop, who's going to keep everything going?" I hear you. I felt that too. But here's what I learned:

The world doesn't fall apart when you rest. It just keeps turning. And when you come back, you're actually able to be present for it.

Your students will be okay if you take a week off. Your child will be okay if you're not perfect every day. Your job will be okay if you admit you need support.

What won't be okay is if you keep running until you collapse.

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I work with expat educators going through divorce who are trying to keep their lives from falling apart. Shall we talk?