Jul 15 2025.
views 15By Rihaab Mowlana
Between self-care and escapism, are we losing our edge?
There was a time when ambition was everything. We glamorised the hustle. We made to-do lists for our to-do lists. We wore “busy” like a badge of honour and romanticised burnout as the price of greatness. Then came the backlash.
Suddenly, the mood shifted. Millennials burnt out en masse, Gen Z wasn’t having it, and the world collectively raised a perfectly exfoliated eyebrow at hustle culture. Enter the soft life: a slow, ease-filled, aesthetically curated existence where boundaries are firm, effort is minimal, and comfort is king. Think matcha lattes, weekday naps, and a complete emotional unavailability for anything that smells remotely like stress.
But here’s the plot twist no one wants to talk about: What if the pursuit of the soft life is making us soft?
A Rebrand of Laziness?
On the surface, the soft life is a rebellion, a powerful middle finger to capitalist exploitation, generational trauma, and unrealistic productivity standards. It’s a refusal to sacrifice joy at the altar of job titles and KPIs. But scratch a little deeper and you’ll find a slippery slope where self-care begins to blur into avoidance, and “protecting your peace” becomes an excuse to do… nothing.
We’re not just burning out anymore. We’re opting out. From dating, from career ambition, from difficult conversations. Even from hope. Yes, it’s important to rest. No, you shouldn’t grind yourself into the ground. But it’s also worth asking: when does rest turn into rust?
Hustle Fatigue vs. Hustle Phobia
We’re in a cultural moment where any display of ambition can feel almost embarrassing. Try saying “I want to be the best at what I do” online and watch the comment section spiral into accusations of toxic competitiveness or “main character syndrome.”
In an era where people are choosing mental health days over promotions, and ghosting job interviews in the name of alignment, we’ve developed what can only be described as hustle phobia. It’s not just that we’re tired, it’s that we’ve become allergic to effort.
But here’s the uncomfortable truth: Excellence requires effort. Growth is uncomfortable. And real fulfilment often comes from doing hard things well, not avoiding them.
The Aesthetic Trap
Part of the appeal of the soft life is its Instagrammability. A girl reading by the sea with a wine glass in hand. A 25-year-old in a silk robe proclaiming, “I don’t dream of labour.” TikToks filled with voiceovers about “rest being revolutionary” while showing 30 seconds of soft lighting, gentle jazz, and someone lighting incense for the third time that day. We’ve confused aesthetics with actual healing, rest with resignation and balance with boredom.
It’s not that people want a soft life. They want a visibly soft life; one that performs wellness while often avoiding the inner work that true peace requires. Because here’s the thing: peace isn’t passive. It’s not always slow mornings and skincare. Sometimes it’s boundaries, therapy, discipline, and unlearning generations of survival patterns.
Escapism Dressed as Empowerment
The danger of the soft life isn’t in the lifestyle itself, it’s in the mindset it can encourage. A mindset that says discomfort is inherently bad. That all stress is toxic. That effort is a trauma response.
But discomfort is the birthplace of evolution. Stress, in manageable doses, is how we grow stronger; physically, emotionally, professionally. And effort? That’s what makes the reward feel worth it.
What’s being sold to us as self-care is sometimes just escapism with better branding. A quiet, curated stagnation that asks nothing of us and delivers very little in return.
A Generational Wound
It’s not hard to see why the soft life is appealing. Many of us watched our parents trade joy for job security. We saw ambition break people. We saw mothers cry quietly after their second shift, fathers age faster under the weight of financial pressure, and a society that rewarded sacrifice and called it success. So we vowed: never again.
But in rejecting their mistakes, have we created a new kind of paralysis? One where any hint of discomfort is rejected and labelled as “toxic”? One where resilience is seen as repression?
It’s entirely fair to want a gentler life. But gentleness without purpose can become a trap, a loop of low expectations dressed up in wellness lingo.
Redefining What It Means to Live Well
The soft life doesn’t have to be a scam. At its best, it’s about choosing ease when you can, prioritising joy, and rejecting the lie that you have to suffer to succeed. But we need to bring back nuance. The pendulum has swung so far in one direction that many now see any form of ambition as a betrayal of self-worth.
We need to reframe:
It’s possible to honour your nervous system and your goals. To say no to burnout without saying no to growth. To be soft without becoming shapeless.
The Edge We’re Losing
What we’re in danger of losing is grit, not the toxic kind that glorifies suffering, but the kind that allows us to keep going when things get hard. The kind that builds character, courage, and conviction. That helps us show up (even when we don’t feel like it) because something bigger is at stake.
If you never stretch, how will you know your limits? If you never try, how will you know your power? And if you never fall, how will you ever learn to rise?
Reclaiming the Middle Ground
The soft life has its merits. We needed the correction. We needed the rest. But it’s time to check ourselves. Because sometimes, in the name of healing, we start hiding. In the name of self-care, we stop showing up. And in the name of ease, we become people we don’t even respect anymore. A fulfilling life isn’t just soft. It’s textured. Layered. Demanding. It asks for rest and responsibility. Gentleness and guts. So by all means, romanticise your life. But don’t forget to live it too.
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