It's Wonder Wednesday and I've just returned to work.
I had surgery on December 29th, days after Christmas. When I talked to my healthcare team, they recommended I plan to take 2–4 weeks off work following surgery. So in addition to trying to end the year strong and beta test a new product offering, I spent the run up to the holidays preparing to step away from my business for the entire month of January without losing all momentum in my pipeline. I was planning to TAKE A BREAK, a big one.
Now that it's February, how did I do?
Not great, if I'm honest. But I'm in good company. Author R.O. Kwon recently wrote about her own failed attempt at a home residency in January 2026: "I kept lunging to read the news. Hungering for it. I have the kind of anxiety that believes the following: if I'm perfectly informed & can imagine every bad potential outcome, I might prevent further catastrophes. Which is absurd, I know, & yet. What if it's not."
I felt Kwon’s words on the page. I knew that to truly rest and recover, I'd need to take a break from the entire internet and screens as much as possible. Which made me wonder: what does it mean to rest when the world keeps spinning faster and louder, and when that anxious voice whispers what if staying informed could prevent the next catastrophe?
The world around us has changed dramatically this year; have you updated your ideas about rest to keep up?
Nancy Martira
Clew Strategy
Writer and historian Garrett Graff articulated something I'd been feeling but couldn't name. In his essay "The Physical Weight of Trumpism," he describes the exhaustion so many of us carry not as weakness, but as the accumulation of countless shifts from "zero to non-zero" probability. Before 2025, there was zero chance you'd worry about certain things. Now those chances are at least non-zero. And we're carrying that weight every single day.
"That heaviness you feel," Graff writes, "that drag on your mental health, that drain on your emotional energy and lethargy in the face of world events—that's real. We are all carrying a lot of new weight... It's the weight of non-zero." - Garrett Graff
This isn't abstract political theory. It's the physical sensation of scrolling through news that makes your shoulders tighten. It's the mental load of wondering which institutions will still exist next week. It's the emotional labor of staying informed while also staying sane.
Around the same time I was reading Graff's essay and preparing for my forced rest, Psychology Today published a piece on "Analog Hobbies: A New Self-Care Trend." The timing felt meaningful. We're living through a moment where the old advice about "unplugging" has become both more essential and more complicated than ever.
Rules to Break
1. You don't need to stay informed every minute to be a good citizen.
This is the hardest one for me to internalize. If you're reading this newsletter, you're probably someone who values being informed, engaged, and aware. We wear our knowledge of current events like armor, proof that we care, that we're paying attention, that we haven't checked out.
But the news will still be there the next time you check in. Violence perpetrated by federal agents will not be averted because you refreshed your feed one more time. The weight of knowing everything, immediately, as it unfolds, is crushing us.
Research on "doomscrolling" shows that constant exposure to negative news increases anxiety and depression while decreasing our capacity to take meaningful action. The irony is that by trying to stay constantly informed, we're reducing our ability to respond effectively when it matters.
Taking a break from the news doesn't mean you don't care. Sometimes it means you care enough about your capacity to act that you're willing to protect it.
We wear our knowledge of current events like armor, proof that we care, that we're paying attention, that we haven't checked out.
2. Rest shouldn't look productive.
I planned my break strategically. Christmas and Birthday wish lists included board games, books, and puzzles. I was well-stocked on art supplies and yarn. All very aesthetic, very cottage-core, very content-ready. But wait. Was I truly resting or was I performing rest? I was still worried about having something to show for all this time off.
The Psychology Today article on analog hobbies resonated because it named something true: we're desperate for activities that feel real, tangible, and disconnected from the attention economy. But even that impulse can become another form of optimization if we're not careful.
I’ve got a lovely stack of new crochet projects to show for my time off, but I wish I did more … nothing. Staring out the window? Taking a nap without setting an alarm? Reading the same chapter of a book three times because your mind keeps wandering?
It took some time for me to accept that the goal isn't to document your rest. The goal is to actually rest.
3. Women are allowed to opt out. Really.
Our culture does not encourage people — particularly women — to opt out of responsibility, especially when it comes to caregiving and domestic labor. We've been so thoroughly socialized to believe that our worth comes from our availability, our productivity, our care for others, that taking a break feels transgressive.
Even when I was recovering from an actual medical procedure, I felt guilty. About the income I wasn’t earning. About the laundry piling up. About this very newsletter not publishing on schedule. The voice in my head kept nudging: "You feel okay. Couldn’t you do a little more?"
Shut up, little voice. You are allowed to rest even when you could physically keep going. You are allowed to say no even when you could technically squeeze it in. You are allowed to take a break before you reach the point of collapse.
This isn't selfishness. This is survival.
Here are two small experiments to try:
The Analog Arsenal
This week, gather your own collection of screen-free activities. Not because they'll look good on Instagram, but because they'll occupy your hands and mind when you need to step away. My list included board games, books, watercolors, puzzles, and crochet — yours might look completely different. The key is having them ready before you need them, so that when the urge to doomscroll hits, you have an actual alternative within reach. If you need some help getting started, here’s a list I curated on Bookshop.org.
The Zero to Non-Zero Inventory
Read Garrett Graff’s essay then spend 20 minutes writing down all the things that shifted from "zero chance of worry" to "non-zero chance" in your life over the past year. Don't censor yourself. Include everything from the political to the personal to the professional. Then ask yourself: which of these am I monitoring out of necessity, and which am I monitoring out of habit? Where could I give myself permission to not carry that weight, at least for a defined period?
The Paradox of Informed Helplessness
R.O. Kwon names something I've struggled to articulate: "I have the kind of anxiety that believes the following: if I'm perfectly informed & can imagine every bad potential outcome, I might prevent further catastrophes."
This is the cruel paradox of our moment. We scroll not because we think it will make us happy, but because we believe on some deep, irrational level that our vigilance matters. That if we look away, something terrible will happen that we could have prevented by knowing about it.
But here's the truth: you cannot prevent ICE raids by reading about them in real-time. You cannot stop executive orders by doom-scrolling Bsky. You cannot protect democracy by staying perpetually informed of every assault against it.
What you can do is preserve your capacity to act when action matters. As Kwon discovered, "Political action helped, as usual; acting like a person full of hope tends to be cheering, the act itself begetting the feeling."
Rest isn't abdication. Sometimes it's the most strategic thing you can do.
You cannot prevent ICE raids by reading about them in real-time. You cannot stop executive orders by doom-scrolling Bsky. You cannot protect democracy by staying perpetually informed of every assault against it.
The Wonder of Disconnecting
My imperfect January break taught me that analog activities aren't just a trend or a coping mechanism. They're what poet Robert Hass might call a kind of singing against pain.
In his poem "Faint Music," Hass writes: "I had the idea that the world's so full of pain / it must sometimes make a kind of singing. / And that the sequence helps, as much as order helps— / First an ego, and then pain, and then the singing."
When I worked on a puzzle, I couldn't simultaneously check my phone. When I dipped a paint brush into a jam jar full of clean water, I was unable to scroll. The physical nature of these activities created a natural boundary that willpower alone couldn't provide. But more than that, my hobbies at rest became my “singing” - small acts of creation against the chaos.
These activities reminded me that not everything can be rushed, that some things simply take the time they take, and that my worth isn't measured by how efficiently I complete tasks or how thoroughly I document disasters.
Rest can be an action. Creation can be resistance. Sometimes the most radical thing we can do is protect our capacity to hope by stepping away from the mechanisms designed to crush it.
The Question
What would you need to believe about yourself — about your worth, your responsibilities, your obligations — to give yourself permission to truly take a break?
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Garrett Graff's "The Physical Weight of Trumpism" appeared in his Substack The Doomsday Scenario on January 8, 2026. Graff is a journalist and historian, author of multiple books including The Only Plane in the Sky: An Oral History of 9/11 and Watergate: A New History. His essay articulates the accumulation of "zero to non-zero" shifts in American life and their toll on collective mental health.
"Analog Hobbies: A New Self-Care Trend" appeared in Psychology Today in January 2026. The article explores the rising interest in screen-free activities as a response to digital exhaustion and constant connectivity.
Robert Hass's poem "Faint Music" explores themes of pain, order, and the transformative power of art. Hass served as U.S. Poet Laureate from 1995-1997.
And now for the Mystery Link!
I’ve gotten way in to tabletop board games and card games again. But you don’t have to spend a lot of money to keep your mind occupied. Own a deck of cards? Why don’t you learn a new card game? So, which will you choose: Door Number One or Door Number Two?
(or buy me a coffee.) Meet Nancy Martira. I'm a brand strategist and communications consultant who brings endless curiosity to every project. If you've got a challenge that needs a fresh, unexpected perspective, let's talk!
Communications consultant, brand strategist, & Wonder Work creator. Curious about everything from terrible orchestras to happiness algorithms. Feed your curiosity; starve the doom — one small idea at a time. Let's wonder!