Coming back from a holiday used to fill me with dread. Not because I didn’t enjoy the trip, but because I returned carrying an unbearable mental weight – guilt over what I’d eaten, panic about how my body might have changed, and fear of having to “make up” for it all. For years, holidays felt like a test I could never pass. I’d try to control every moment,from food to movement to how I looked in every photo. Rest wasn’t really rest. Fun came with rules. Food had to be earned.

But this time felt different.

This holiday, I gave myself permission. Permission to eat when I was hungry, and not when I’d “earned” it. Permission to try new foods just because they looked good. Permission to skip workouts, sleep in, and enjoy the slow pace of the day. I wore a bikini without picking my body apart. I didn’t track or compensate or punish myself. I just lived. And that freedom? It was everything.

There was a time when that wouldn’t have been possible. For years, I lived by a set of rigid rules. I believed discipline meant worth. That saying no was strength. That food had to be micromanaged, movement was non-negotiable, and “slipping up” meant failure. I missed out on so many memories, so many meals, so many moments – all in the name of being in control.

But slowly, I’ve unlearned those patterns. I’ve realised that food is part of the experience, not something to be feared. That movement can be joyful, and that holidays aren’t something to “earn” or “undo.” That the best memories usually come from the unexpected: the unplanned dinners, the lazy mornings, the laughter over dessert.

What hit me the most on this trip was that I didn’t just “survive” the holiday, I actually enjoyed it. I was present. I felt connected to the people around me. I didn’t feel consumed by rules or routines. That used to feel impossible.

And if I’m honest, this holiday also brought something else to the surface: the way I’ve clung to being “the disciplined one,” the one who’s always controlled, always striving, always pushing through. Letting go of that identity, even just for a week, felt vulnerable. Because for so long, that structure gave me a sense of worth. But the truth is, I don’t need to earn my place in the world by restricting myself. I don’t need to suffer to be good enough.

This trip reminded me of everything I almost missed out on. And everything I still have to look forward to.

If you’re reading this and feeling like food guilt, shame or pressure is holding you back from truly enjoying your life, I see you. It’s hard to break the cycle, especially when we’ve been taught that “being good” means controlling our bodies. But I promise, there is another way. One where food is joy, not stress. Where movement is optional, not punishment. Where you don’t have to spend the days after a holiday “fixing” anything.

You don’t need to earn rest. You don’t need to earn meals. You don’t need to earn joy.

You deserve to enjoy your time away, fully, freely, and without strings attached. And when you come back? You get to carry that freedom with you.

– xo Pepetoe