How Do You Rest When You Can’t Settle?
The idea of rest sounds wonderful. In fact, you might even have a very specific dream of how it would play out: you actually finish your to-do list. Everyone around you has what they need. You can wake up late, spend your days doing whatever you want, and finally get the rest you’ve been working so hard to get to. Except ... when you actually do get a chance to rest, you find yourself restless.
When chaos is familiar, it’s hard to switch into comfort.
You have to build the capacity for it, teach your nervous system that it’s OK. After all, if chaos is what’s familiar, of course you’ll gravitate towards that. Familiar is safe, even when it’s not what’s best.
It’s kind of like moving from one house to another. The old one might have been too small, too over-filled with things. But when you move to that new house, and get the clean slate, it feels odd. All that space takes some living into, some getting used to. Some realizing that actually, you want to hold onto a few extra boxes from the old house, or, maybe you’re ready to let them go.
Just like moving into a new space, it’s about experimentation and curiosity.
You can’t go from all the things to nothing — talk about jarring. Instead, what if you could find a way to idle down from chaos to, say, challenge? Or maybe you want to take it even a step further, and go from challenge to focus? I’d invite you to see if you can get curious about what might still give you the fulfilment, or attention, or sense of accomplishment you get from the chaos, if there was no pressure behind it.
But ... but ... but...
If you stop, things will fall apart. If you don’t do it, it won’t get done. If you don’t figure out this rest thing, you won’t be able to perform, and then, and then, and then ...
I get it. I really and truly do. And, I also know that those fears are often (not always, but often) more habitual anxiety than things that would actually happen if you rested. This doesn’t mean that you need to just ignore that inner voice, or try to work against it. That’ll just strengthen it, because then you’ll be showing your nervous system that not only is it unsafe to rest, but you’ll ignore its very timely warnings, too.
That’s why my work is always about small, incremental, safe shifts that get you where you want to go.
Things like this:
What’s the shortest increment of time you can rest? Is it a breath? A second? And what about the longest amount of time? 5 minutes? An hour? A day? What might it look like to deliberately plan shorter and longer moments of rest throughout your days?
Rest doesn’t always have to be about stillness. (Though of course, that might be what you need.) If you want to rest, but feel like you need to be in motion, how might you experiment with that? What gives you a feeling of challenge, but also nourishment?
What does rest feel like in your body? And, what does it feel like when you try to switch from chaos to rest, and can’t quite get there? How might you give those feelings a little more space, a little more care?
The work of re-writing safety can be done alone, but it’s better with support. I’d love to work with you to help you figure out what you need to settle. Curious about what that might look like? Here’s more information.
