Sunshine, Stress, and the Strange Pressure to Enjoy It All

This time of year can stir up more than just the scent of sunscreen. It brings with it an emotional choreography that many of us recognise but rarely name. Because while summer shows up golden and generous, it often carries a quiet emotional weight too.

There’s pressure—to relax, to reset, to be present. To savour every drop of sunshine. To feel grateful. A soft expectation to slow down, to rest, to be happy—even when we’re exhausted, overstimulated, or quietly hanging by a thread.

And all of this plays out against the backdrop of everything we’re still carrying. Work stress. Identity shifts. Parenting challenges. Health worries. Climate anxiety. Global uncertainty. A warm breeze can’t erase the nervous system’s memory of what it’s endured.

This year—like the ones before it—has demanded a lot. And now comes summer, with its gentle invitation to unwind, but also a whisper that you should probably be enjoying it more than you are.

But rest isn’t always hammocks and sunsets. True rest can be radical. It can look like not hustling for worth. Like notperforming wellness. Like softening into what’s actually true, instead of forcing what we think we should feel.

Sometimes, rest looks like boundaries. Or saying no. Or sitting in the mess and letting it be messy.

So maybe this summer isn’t about reinvention or optimisation. Maybe it’s about maintenance. About being honest with yourself. About showing up—softly, imperfectly, humanly.

That might look like:

• Letting go of the need to make every day meaningful
• Giving yourself permission to be tired, even when the sun is shining
• Not apologising for needing space
• Choosing slowness, even when urgency is the cultural default
• Being honest—with yourself and with others—about what you have capacity for

If you're stretched or struggling, that’s not a failure. It’s a sign of being alive in a complex world.

We’re told summer is the season of rest, of ease, of joy. But if you’re not feeling any of those things, that doesn’t mean you’re broken. It means you’re human.

You don’t have to do it all.
You don’t have to be endlessly grateful.
You don’t have to enjoy every moment.

You can simply show up—with gentleness, with honesty, and with just enough energy to meet yourself where you are.

That, too, is summer.

// Nicola