You Know You Need to Rest. So Why Can't You Actually Do It?

The tasks will always wait. Your magic needs tending to.

It’s snowing here in Yorkshire as I type. Mid November and we’ve got snow. For those of you not hailing from the best county in England, except for those back-in-the-day times before climate change and all that fuckery, snow’s not a particularly regular occurrence. So, of course, we all lose our minds and start dancing in the stuff.

But just a few weeks ago it seems, we were frolicking in the garden in our thinnest cottons worrying about the appropriate level of SPF to wear on our faces. The purple sundress poking out from the back of my wardrobe is a sort of mockery. It’s bloody snowing mate, I don’t know what you’re after.

I’m sat by an open window and my fingers are about to fall off, so I’ll make this brief: the snow’s reminding me, in an odd sort of way, of the equilibrium we’re lacking.

The nature of balance

Maybe, without sounding too obnoxiously twee, I can speak of the weather as a symbol of us and our nervous systems.

Air always travels from high-pressure to low, always looking to find balance. The water cycle is a kind of balancing act, too. Storms, interesting clouds, clear blue skies… whatever the weather’s doing right now in your neck of the woods, there’s a shuffle toward balance happening outside your window.

This is what nature does, of course. Weather, ecosystems, even our bodies… Always seeking a sort of equilibrium. Always shifting, adapting, and stabilising in some way.

But us? I overworked last week, maybe it was the week before for you, or maybe we can talk about that time before you went to Crete or Cornwall or The Yorkshire Dales for a fortnight and it turned into a total nightmare.

That insane frantic energy we get before we go on holiday, getting everything done so we can have some time off. But then, of course, we’re so fucking wired when we get to where we’re going, it takes us ten days to cool off. By which point we’re almost back at our desk and did it even bloody happen at all?

Where’s the equilibrium? Where’s the balance?

Now, we all bloody know the things: eat your greens, sleep for 8-hours or more, go for a walk...

We know there’s a necessity for rest. But do we give ourselves the permission? Do we see the wildly wonderful benefits of resting and stopping and taking the afternoon off, or lounging for a little longer over our lunches, or sleeping in?

The 7 Types of Rest

Maybe in mind, but in body…

I think one of the biggest problems in our society today (coming from a person of massive privilege, let’s not gloss over that), is the glorification of over-work; is companies and decision-makers at our workplaces telling us that a seven-hour day, five days a week, is an appropriate level of commitment to our role. That in this time we’ll get the maximum amount of work done we can, and be the most profitable to the company.

I know someone who’s received hate mail to his house because of his fervour in advocating for a four-day work week. Hate mail. If ever we needed a sign that this [waves arm around wildly] is all fucked up, that’s it.

So, perhaps I’m speaking to someone confined to the absurdity of a fixed-hour five-day week. And I take my hat off to you, friend — this isn’t easy. However, regardless of your situation right now, I’m here to remind us all (myself very much included): resting and stopping and taking the afternoon off, or lounging for a little longer over our lunch, or sleeping in, or in some other way taking the time for ourselves to discover equilibrium, and balance, and space, and ease — it’s a natural cycle that we’ve all been eschewing for want of doing more and being more.

Here’s to doing less, and being less. Just for a while.

These are the things that work for me, even in chaos, even in absurdity. I think they’ll help you, too:

• A five minute break in a toilet cubicle can count. Notice your breathing, the way your tush feels on the seat, relax that tension I know you’re carrying in your neck and jaw and shoulders.

• Relax the deadlines, relax your need for it to be perfect. Perfection, after all, is an enormous myth we’ve developed internally as a coping mechanism for an imperfect life. Stop doing it, it’s destroying you.

• Bring more presence to your tea-drinking, your TV-watching, the way you brush your teeth. Multi-tasking is a disaster. More presence = less feeling of time-scarcity (want to bring this into your life? Try The Attention Experiment).

• Linger over your food.

• Boop the noses of dogs more often (with their consent, obviously — I shan’t be liable for dog-related hospital visits).

• Bring silliness, and levity, and softness, and ease into every single day.

All of this to say: you’re allowed to stop.

Whatever it is that’s causing you the high-pressure right now — you’re allowed to stop.

Like the snow, and the wind, and those scuttling clouds overhead: you’re allowed to shift states, in whatever way works for you.

This is your permission slip. This is your friendly expert — in a snazzy white coat, if you like — advising, imploring, jumping about with fervour to really make it hit home: you’re allowed to stop.

The snow stopped for a while there, but as I’ve written these final sentences it’s slowly built up a little shelf of the stuff on my windowsill. Closing the window, I’m off to make some tea. Wrapping my frozen fingers around a hot mug, breathing in the steam, watching the snow for a while — this is my version of stopping this morning, before I tackle the (always endless) task list ahead for the day.

The tasks will always wait, my friend. But your magic needs tending to.

With love,

Chloe
🧡

Want more? All my resources live here.