The Discomfort of Resting

I don’t do rest well. More specifically, full days of less is not something I am good at. Sometimes I envy the people who can enjoy a full Saturday of binging shows and not much of anything else. For me, the enjoyment from relaxing only happens when several other things are on the day’s agenda too. 

A relaxing day to me is morning coffee savored with a good book, enjoyed on the back porch in the sunshine. Then it’s a longer, harder effort run with things to get done when I get home. Laundry, cleaning, baking something in the early afternoon. The relaxing feeling comes from the small accomplishments as the day goes, and not needing to rush to get anything done. And who knows. Maybe in the evening I’ll get crazy and watch a movie.

I do enjoy slowing down and taking time to smell the flowers. Slow means not being in a hurry, and it always feels nice to not be in a rush. But, I don’t enjoy downtime or sleeping in. If I’m completely honest, rest makes me anxious. The idea of doing nothing, all day, sounds awful.

But here I am. Resting. Because it’s what my body needs from me this week, and I know it will be a good thing to have done for myself when it’s over. For now though, it’s uncomfortable and I don’t like it.

Rest… makes me restless.

But, I can feel the rebuilding and repairing in my muscles as I let them be. My brain might not be content, but my body is. My body is using this time of less to tend to things long neglected during life at my normal speed.

The things that challenge us are funny. The things that make us uncomfortable are how we grow. And this week, my challenge is learning to live in the discomfort of resting. Like actual rest, for the first time in several years.

After a full week, I’ll do my best to start slow with doing more again. My body and my brain will have to compromise for a while. They will each have their own opinion and ideas about the best travel speed. Whatever my brain says, I’ll have to stop myself from pushing too hard on the peddle.

Because I’ve heard the story enough times to know better. And I never wanted to be the hare anyway. The tortoise is the one I always looked up to. I still do.