Work, Rest, and the Body: Rethinking Business

For almost a decade, I lived with unexplained symptoms. When I finally received a diagnosis for a genetic condition, it was both grounding and disorienting. It gave shape to what I’d been navigating and asked me to consider what it meant for my future, my work, and the foundations I was building everything on.

This shift was both physical and philosophical. It meant recognising that my days would look different to the ones I once imagined. Managing my health takes hours. Rest isn't optional. Focus arrives in intervals. And yet, I run a business. I work with clients. I create. I contribute. Entrepreneurship became the structure that allowed me to do that: not in spite of my body, but in relationship with it.

This is why I believe small business matters, and why I see it as something far bigger than personal ambition.

The Problem with Traditional Work

The traditional 9–5 model rests on assumptions that many of us don’t fit into:

That you can sit at a desk all day. That commuting doesn’t take a toll. That your energy can be switched on, consistently, without cost.

For people with chronic illness, disabilities, neurodivergence, mental health conditions, or caregiving responsibilities, these assumptions often collapse on contact with reality. A 2025 poll by the Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public Health found:

• 60% of employees with chronic conditions have never disclosed their condition and are carrying invisible weight at work.

• Over one-third delay medical care to avoid interfering with their job.

• One in three have missed opportunities; one in four missed promotions; one in five have received negative reviews tied directly to their health.

• Only 37% have flexibility in scheduling.

• Just 27% are offered remote work, even when their role could allow it.

In many workplaces, fluctuation, rest, and recovery are treated as disruptions rather than realities.

Small Business as Disruption

This is where small business becomes important, and, for some of us, essential. It’s a way of building a life around the truth of our bodies. Entrepreneurship allows me to work from a space designed for my comfort, organise my week around my health, work deeply in shorter, more meaningful bursts, and contribute without compromising my wellbeing.

In a culture obsessed with scale, choosing to build a business at a pace your body can hold is a refusal. It’s an act of care. It’s a rejection of structures that were never designed for us.

This doesn’t mean entrepreneurship is the right path for everyone. Some people thrive in traditional environments. Some need stability, predictability, and support that entrepreneurship cannot always provide. But the point remains: work should be flexible enough to meet the full range of human needs.

I write this from the UK, where free healthcare removes one layer of complexity. I’m deeply aware that in the U.S., chronic illness often comes with heavy financial consequences. But no matter the system, many workplaces still aren’t designed to let people fully care for their bodies.

What Illness Taught Me About Business

Chronic illness has taught me one of the most important lessons of my life:

You can rest and still build.

Progress doesn’t disappear when you step back, if your foundations are thoughtful and your systems are steady. With limited energy, I had to become intentional. I learned to work with clarity. I cut distractions. I stopped chasing every new “must-have” tactic. I built workflows that held me, so I didn’t have to hold everything at once.

The resilience I’ve developed didn’t come from pushing through. It came from creating structures that allowed me to step away without everything falling apart. That shift has shaped every part of Studio Founded, from the products I create to the pace I work at.

A Broader Invitation

My story is one of many. There are millions navigating chronic conditions, mental health challenges, and the complexities of life that don’t fit neatly inside a 9–5 calendar.

The pandemic showed us that work can be organised differently. It proves that creativity, contribution, and leadership can take many forms, and that meaningful work doesn’t have to fit into a single shape.

So I leave you with questions to sit with:

If you run a business:

How might you design it to honour your body and your energy?

If you’re in traditional work:

What forms of flexibility would allow you not just to function, but to thrive?

And for all of us:

What could shift if we stopped measuring worth by hours alone?

This piece is part of my ongoing exploration into branding and business as cultural commentary. I’m Hannah Shaw, founder of Studio Founded — a design practice and resource library for founders.