Sometimes rebellion looks like cancelling a meeting and standing in a field with daffodils on a Wednesday.

The rain has been relentless lately.

Grey mornings. Heavy skies. That damp chill that creeps into your shoulders and seems to whisper, “Stay small. Stay inside.” For a lot of people, it’s matched how things have felt emotionally too. Darker days, metaphorically and physically. Long stretches of just getting through. I have certainly felt the impact of both.

Then today, the sun made an appearance.

Not a dramatic, cinematic entrance. Just light breaking through cloud like it had quietly decided we’d had enough.

It was Wellbeing Wednesday. And by some rare alignment of diaries, I had 2 whole hours free in the middle of the day. An hour either side of wellbeing Wednesday.

That meant…..Three hours.

Now, old programming would have said: Be productive. Catch up. Get ahead. Do admin. Fill the space.

Instead, I cancelled wellbeing Wednesday, told the truth, and went out into the sunshine with my husband and the puppies.

I told the group of therapists, 4.5k of them, exactly what I was doing. I said I was being human. That I was choosing self-care. That I was taking advantage of the light.

Why lie?

There’s something powerful about modelling boundaries instead of preaching them. As therapists, we talk about nervous system regulation, burnout, sustainability. But if we can’t occasionally say, “The sun is out and I’m going to stand in it,” what are we demonstrating?

The world did not fall apart.

It did not crumble.

Emails did not combust.

The profession did not collapse because one therapist chose sunlight.

Instead, something beautiful happened.

I invited those therapists to use the time too. To get outside if they could. To look up. To take photos. To reflect.

And the pictures that came back, stunning.

Daffodils blazing yellow against green.

Deer caught mid-step in quiet fields.

Wild garlic carpeting woodland floors.

Wide skies.

Soft light.

Early spring lambs wobbling on new legs.

There is something deeply regulating about seasonal change. Our bodies respond to light. Sun on your arms and face isn’t indulgence, it’s biology. Vitamin D shifts. Circadian rhythms recalibrate. The nervous system reads brightness as safety.

Standing there, feeling warmth on my skin after weeks of grey, I could feel how much my own system needed it.

Sometimes we forget that we are mammals before we are professionals.

Rain and darkness affect us.

Long winters, literal and emotional, take a toll.

We are not machines designed for endless output under fluorescent lighting.

Self-care isn’t always bubble baths and candles. Sometimes it’s cancelling something non-urgent because the sun has finally broken through and your body says, “Now. Go now.”

There’s also something deeper here.

So many of us have been in darker times, grief, stress, global uncertainty, personal struggles. When the light appears, even briefly, we have to let ourselves step into it. Not wait until everything is perfect. Not earn it through exhaustion.

Just step forward.

What I loved most was the collective permission. One honest admission, “I’m choosing sunshine”, opened space for others to do the same. And instead of judgement, there was beauty. Reflection. Connection.

That’s what happens when we stop pretending we’re endlessly resilient.

We show that boundaries are real.

We show that rest is responsible.

We show that prioritising ourselves doesn’t equal selfishness.

And crucially, the world doesn’t fall apart when we do.

The lambs were still there.

The daffodils were still standing.

The emails were still waiting.

Life carried on.

But I felt different.

Lighter.

More present.

More alive.

Sometimes the most radical thing you can do in a productivity-obsessed culture is stand in the sun in the middle of a Wednesday and say, “This matters.”

Dark seasons come.

Rain falls.

There are heavy times.

And then the light returns.

When it does, look up.

Step into it.

Let it land on your skin.

The work will still be there tomorrow. Wellbeing Wednesday will happen again.

And me? I feel absolutely refreshed and dare I say it? Warm & glowing.

Stay safe, stay connected & take gentle care

Louise x

If this resonates, you’re not on your own.