Finding Rest, Resilience, and Renewal After Peak Season in Caribbean Hospitality
- Brainz Magazine
- 2 hours ago
- 3 min read
Written by Lorraine Kenlock, Holistic Psychotherapist
Lorraine Kenlock is a Turks & Caicos-based psychotherapist specializing in trauma, ADHD, and mind-body nutrition. With advanced training in EMDR and somatic therapies, she helps clients across the Caribbean heal through culturally-attuned online and in-person sessions."
As the vibrant energy of peak season settles across our islands, many of us in hospitality are caught between exhaustion and relief. The long hours, the non-stop smiles, the magic we create for guests, it takes a toll, not just on our schedules, but on our bodies and spirits. And now, as the pace slows, the reality sets in: burnout doesn’t disappear just because the season does. From a somatic psychotherapy perspective, this transition isn’t just about catching up on sleep; it’s about healing the whole self.
1. Your body has been speaking: Have you been listening?
Burnout isn’t just “being tired.” It’s your body saying, "I’ve been running on fumes for too long." Maybe it’s the lower back pain that won’t ease up, the headaches that linger, or the way your heart races even when you’re finally sitting still. These aren’t just aches, they’re your nervous system’s SOS. After months of high demand, your body is still braced for the next rush. The good news? It wants to rest. It just needs permission.
2. The financial tightrope: When rest feels like a luxury
Let’s be real: slower season often means leaner paychecks, and that anxiety can make “rest” feel like a privilege you can’t afford. Your mind races: "Should I take that extra shift? What if I can’t cover rent?" But here’s the thing, chronic stress doesn’t solve financial gaps; it deepens them. When your body is stuck in survival mode, every decision feels heavier. The key? Small, intentional acts of care that cost nothing: a five-minute stretch in the morning, a walk by the sea, a shared meal with your work family. These moments remind your nervous system: "You’re safe. You’re allowed to pause."
3. Rest that actually feels like rest
True rest isn’t just collapsing on the couch; it’s active nourishment. For those of us in hospitality, that might look like:
Switching off “service mode”: Let your face relax. No more “customer voice.” Just you, unscripted.
Moving for joy (not just function): Dance in your kitchen. Swim at sunset. Let your body remember what it’s like to play.
Connecting beyond the grind: Laugh with coworkers about the wild season stories not to vent, but to release.
4. A love letter to the industry
To the servers, bartenders, housekeepers, and chefs who make Caribbean hospitality shine: your worth isn’t tied to your productivity. The industry runs on your resilience, but you deserve more than just surviving peak season. Imagine workplaces where mental health days are standard, where wages honor your off-season, where “self-care” isn’t a buzzword but a practice woven into the culture. We’re not there yet, but we can advocate for it, one conversation at a time.
Final thought: Rest is your right
You don’t have to earn rest. You don’t have to “deserve” it. After months of pouring into others, this quieter season is your invitation to refill your own cup. Listen to your body. Celebrate how far you’ve come. And remember: the same warmth you extend to guests? You’re worthy of that too.
How are you honoring yourself this off-season? What does real rest look like in your world? Share your thoughts below, we’re all learning together.
(Written with deep respect for the hands and hearts that keep Caribbean hospitality alive. You matter, season or no season.)
Read more from Lorraine Kenlock
Lorraine Kenlock, Holistic Psychotherapist
Lorraine Kenlock is a psychotherapist specializing in trauma, ADHD, and the mind-body connection, with a unique focus on Caribbean mental health. Blending EMDR, nutritional psychology, and culturally attuned therapy, she helps clients heal from chronic pain, grief, and shame—both in Turks & Caicos and online. Her groundbreaking work bridges island traditions with modern neuroscience, offering a fresh perspective on resilience.
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