“Resting and thank you.” ~ William Wordsworth
A few years ago, I found myself doing things that didn’t make sense.
It was late in the evening, my children were asleep and the house was finally quiet. I was counting down at this moment all day. It sinks onto the couch, wraps himself in a blanket, causing him to read the book without any distractions.
But as I lay down and closed my eyes, something shaking inside me. Within seconds, I reached for my phone. I didn’t even have anything urgent to check – just a heartless scroll. Five minutes later I was already half-sitting. I was wondering if I should fold my laundry or answer the last email. Before I knew it, I went back to my feet and cleaned up the kitchen.
Why can’t I just rest?
Invisible weight that keeps us calm
Maybe you felt this too. You plan a quiet night – maybe you’re just lying down in a bath, a book, or just silence, but your mind makes a fuss about what you should do instead.
Did you reply to that message? Do I need to clear the counter? Maybe I need to check my notifications.
It’s very easy to blame yourself. I have no discipline. I’m obsessed with my phone. I’m not sitting still. But the truth is, the difficulty of our breaks works deeper than bad habits and busy schedules.
Sometimes our bodies and minds have learned that tranquility is not safe.
Why does rest feel so uncomfortable?
I thought I was not good at relaxing. But over time I realized there was a reason why I still felt that the reason I was lying was wrong.
This is what I learned. And perhaps you’ll see yourself here too.
1. Equate tranquility with danger.
Deep, some of our nervous system still believes we are in the wild. Even if our physical world is safe, our inner world may not feel that way.
Many of us grew up in homes where we had to be vigilant. I monitored my mood, avoided conflicts, kept busy and felt useful or unaware. Being vigilant felt safer than relaxing.
Even now, when our home is calm, our bodies may still whisper: don’t settle. Something could happen.
2. We unite our values.
Growing up, I learned that being “good” means it’s helpful. I cooked before being asked, got my best grades and kept busy. Rest was not modeled as normal. It was a luxury that was only acquired after everything was done perfectly.
So, when I lie down on the couch, an old sound pipes up: Did you really do enough to deserve this? Even now, I’m still folding my laundry at 10pm or working on a blog, rather than letting myself rest.
3. Breaks bring about unpleasant emotions.
Quietness creates space. And sometimes, the space is full of things we want to continue to be buried – praise we ignored all day, sadness we don’t want to name, thoughts that make us feel lonely.
So instead of resting, we are busy. During half-doing chores, we scroll, clean, or half-watch the TV. Movement feels safer than meeting the quietly rising one.
4. Our brains are craving the next hit.
Our world feeds this cycle. Apps, notifications, endless news – a small dopamine burst that keeps our hearts bustling. Even when we are exhausted, our brains only have one more swipe and will be updated one more time.
So when we rest it feels like a mini retreat. Silence can be felt almost insurmountable.
Good news: REST is a skill we can relear
If you see yourself in any of this, you are not broken. You have no problem. Rest feels unfamiliar as your body and mind have learned to survive without it.
The good news is that you can gently retrain yourself to feel safe doing nothing. It’s not about enforcing it, but by filling restlessness with small and viable changes.
A small way to rest will feel safe again
1. Start something small.
I thought the rest meant lying still for an hour. That was too much.
Instead, try building resistance to tranquility in a small way.
Take 10 slow breaths before grabbing your phone in the morning.
Pause for a few seconds before switching tasks.
Lie down for 2 minutes with your eyes closed before going to bed.
I started with a few slow breaths while breastfeeding. It helped both me and my baby to calm down a little more.
Small moments will teach you the body: tranquility doesn’t have to be scared.
2. Beware of the thoughts you are in a hurry.
Sometimes when we rest, thoughts arise:
You’re wasting your time.
You should do something useful.
Another thing is relaxing.
If you notice these ideas, give them a name. Kindly remind me: rest is convenient. Doing nothing is not the same as having nothing.
3. Give your body a gentle cues.
Rest doesn’t have to mean lying. If you feel too quiet, try calming your nervous system with small, soothing actions.
You will notice the warmth while drinking a warm tea. I love to slowly brew tea and take a little time to smell it before drinking.
She sways gently in a blanket.
Sit in the rocking chair. Rocking can feel safer than tranquility.
4. Turn your rest into a ritual.
It helps to deliberately rest – small and predictable acts of care.
Maybe light a candle while you’re sitting. Or play soft music. Or, put your phone away and focus on the warmth of the bath.
Rituals make you feel like a gift, not a wasted time.
5. Feel uncomfortable.
Sometimes, when we rest, emotions arise, guilt, anxiety.
Instead of pushing them aside, sit with them and practice some breathing.
Try telling yourself, “I’m restless. That’s fine. There’s no need to fix it right now.”
Just like any other feeling, it goes through more easily once you stop fighting it.
It really makes sense to take a rest
Looking back, we see that the struggle with rest is not about negligence or distraction. It was about trust.
Learning to rest means trusting that even if we stop, the world will not fall apart. We believe we are worth it even when we are “useless.” Trust that quietly ascending things will not destroy us.
It’s not an easy job, but it’s a gentle job. And every little moment you just spend, by practicing new truths in your body, you measure new truths in your body: you are allowed to rest.
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Pause if you find yourself reaching for your phone while planning on doing nothing. Take one deep breath. Feel your body weight on the sofa. Remember: It’s safe to pause.
Rest is not the opposite of living. Rest is what allows us to appear in full life.
