The week had been relentless. Delayed deliveries, staffing shortages, stubborn numbers that refused to add up — all of it crashing down at once. Small setbacks piled into something heavier than I could carry. My mind spun, jumping from one unresolved problem to another. Even in moments of silence, I found no peace. I sat in front of my laptop, trying to push through, but I only stared blankly at the screen, stuck.
It wasn’t burnout — not yet — but I could feel it creeping closer. I needed to stop, not out of luxury, but necessity.
So, I checked into Solaire Resort North, a first for me. I didn’t expect much. All I wanted was quiet. What I found, though, was something deeper: a place not just for rest, but for release.
Solaire North has an understated presence — elegant yet unpretentious. It doesn’t clamor for attention. Instead, it seems to understand what you need before you do. From the moment I walked in, I felt a quiet sense of calm. The air itself felt softer, the staff moving with a quiet confidence that put me at ease. Comfort here isn’t performative; it’s instinctive, like a gentle hand on your shoulder reminding you to breathe.
In the Premier Suite, relief came quickly. The room was spacious, with warm lighting and thoughtful details that turned the space into something closer to a sanctuary. Slowly, the tension in my chest began to lift.
Dinner at Yakumi was a revelation. The dishes were simple, clean, and precise — food that didn’t hide behind theatrics but stood confidently in its clarity. It reminded me why I fell in love with cooking in the first place. Not for the flair, but for the focus. Later, I ended the evening with a quiet drink and a night of rare, restorative sleep — the kind that clears the fog from your mind.
The next morning, I floated in the pool without agenda. No laps, no goals. Just water and breath. Breakfast at Fresh was equally unhurried. I ate purely for the pleasure of it, not for critique or analysis. Before heading back to reality, I surrendered to an hourlong signature massage at the spa, a final, extended exhale.
We champion the grind, but rarely the pause. For those of us living in high-pressure worlds — entrepreneurs, creatives, chefs, leaders — rest isn’t indulgence; it’s maintenance. It’s how we stay sharp, keep our passion alive, and continue showing up with purpose.
It doesn’t require a week away. Sometimes, just one day is enough — as long as we take it fully, without guilt, and with presence.
These days, I wear many hats: chef, entrepreneur, team leader, and steward of not only my own dreams, but the dreams of others. With that comes an invisible weight. You move beyond execution to constant decision-making. And when you care deeply about your work, mistakes don’t just live in spreadsheets — they live in your chest.
That’s why this rest day mattered. It wasn’t an escape; it was a recalibration. A moment to set everything down, breathe deeply, and reconnect with who I am outside of the stress.
I often say, Laban lang. Keep going. Keep building. Keep pushing forward. But I’ve learned something essential: even warriors need rest. Even the most passionate need a pause. Because when you’re rested, everything becomes clearer — your mind, your purpose, and your next step.
