Recently I’ve had a big think about taking on too much, I think we’re all guilty of it these days. Especially as women. There’s pressure to be ‘busy’. It’s a badge of honour… how effed up is that?

We have to do well at work and get that money honey, have an Insta-worthy social life, home, wardrobe and face, travel, have a ‘side hustle’, somehow have the body of a Love Island contestant, date horrible men and through it all manage to pay our bills, see friends and family and put a wash on.

I don’t know whether men feel this pressure but I certainly know women do, one of them being me. I used to be militant about having one day a week where I didn’t get dressed, go out or do anything that could be deemed productive. I’d eat croissants in bed, binge watch bad TV, pick my spots and just relax. I needed this day, I have a hectic life, like most city-dwellers. But somehow I got guilted out of it…

When I’d decline plans, people would always want to know what I was doing that prevented me from doing whatever it is they wanted me to. ‘Nothing’ was never an adequate response.

So now I am out of the house from dusk ’til dawn. I’ve just started a new job with a commute out of London, I run a book club and host events, I try to keep up with this blog, I’m training to be a PT and work out 4-5 times per week… sometimes at 6am. Plus I’m dating, socialising, and holidaying.

I say this not to humblebrag about how busy I am, as I’m betting you’ve taken on just as much. I say this as a punctuation mark… I need to stop.

I am by no means on the edge of burnout or a breakdown, I’m a little tired, sure. No, I just feel like chilling on the obligations. So this Saturday I will be doing sweet FA (okay maybe a morning yoga class), and then I will get my hair in a topknot and just potter about. And I will not feel bad for doing it! I suggest you all do the same.