Intentional Rest; Reaping the Rewards
Permission to rest… Something I have experienced resistance to giving myself for a long time.
Firstly I want to identify what rest isn't. Rest isn't lounging in immersive guilt, wearing it like a heavy quilt weighing both body and mind down. Rest isn't lying in bed for hours tense with crippling anxiety because facing the day feels overwhelming. Rest isn't procrastinating because self-sabotage is the prioritised programming. Rest is meant to nurture, recharge and relax the body and mind. For years I deprived myself of what my body was screaming for, mostly because not all of me had absorbed the whole meaning of rest.
I say not all of me because a part of me knew that lying down oscillating between telling myself I should be asleep else I was wasting my "rest" time that could otherwise be designated to a more meaningful, productive task and doom scrolling to medicate and distract from the frustration of the above, was not rest. I just didn't know how else to do it.
I realised my expectations were always stuffed with pressure moulded by conditions I had accepted as fact. "Rest equates to laziness", "level of productivity correlates directly to level or self-worth" and "resting is weak." I don't know where I picked these up but somewhere along the way they became cemented in my psyche and repeatedly sabotaged me giving myself permission accept the real sense of rest my body was craving.
Lying on a jetty, a thousand miles from responsibilities and expectations, I was able to see what was there. A sea as clear as my newfound peace, the island in the distance and my feet resting on the edge of the panels of wood making up my bed for the day. I wasn't clouded by thoughts starting with "I should do...." that always ended with that heavy quilt of guilt I mentioned. Maybe this is typical of being in paradise, but it left me with a new perspective on rest: I don't need to be at war with it.
I allowed myself to take refuge on that jetty for the whole day. The tension in my body dissolved, my thoughts quietened and I reclaimed clarity. I benefited because I gave myself permission. It got me thinking about how I could transfer this permission when my conditions did not comprise of warmth, clear blue water and bright sunshine and an entire day with an absence of demands.
I would have to make a commitment to reframe my beliefs. I would ensure I prioritised rest as much as I prioritise my meals. I would treat it as important as an appointment I had been waiting 6 months for. This would take practice, as transforming beliefs does. When the frustration initially and inevitably arrived when I didn't instantly fall asleep or relax, I would remind myself that change takes time and my neural pathways were under construction. I would keep thinking the kindest thought I could, instead of falling into doom scrolling.
I would remind myself that although my head was bound to be busier when I wasn't lying in a different country by the sea, still I could practise being present; even though that still awareness came more easily out there, I owed it to myself to continually let go to arrive into that space as many times as required.
I would give up comparing and mind reading. Living with chronic fatigue syndrome has often left me measuring myself up to people who were more "successful", more "productive" and who didn't need to rest as much as my body did. Releasing how others may or may not perceive me is crucial, and quite frankly I don't think anyone cares how often I rest! I was the one in my way.
Lastly I would begin being nicer to myself in general. Years ago a friend told me: “Hannah, be nice to Hannah” and I never forgot his words. It was that ruthless inner critic that built up all those sabotaging beliefs to begin with. By offering myself kindness my mind was calmer and I was more likely to fully comprehend the authentic meaning of rest.
By letting go of resistance clumped together from indecision, lack of clarity and sabotage, I made room for permission. And now my body yells thank you with every cell she has.