When You’re Unfamiliar with Rest

I cried every time my kids went to their dad’s for his time with them. For six months, two times a week, I cried, sobbed actually. I’d mop floors and change their bedding, and clean baseboards, just a snotty mess. It didn’t help that my daughter would call, as she still does, several times in one day to say that she misses me. I would literally cry myself to sleep until there was nothing to do but to surrender to the exhaustion. I would wake up with puffy, red eyes, feeling like, well, shit, for lack of better words. But I would push through. As I always had. 

When I was about 8 months pregnant with my first child, I packed up every item that my ex and I shared to prepare for our move. That is no easy feat for a pregnant woman. I remember being exhausted and in pain. My ankles were completely swollen and throbbing. My baby and fibroids were always competing for space in my womb, and my bones and joints were rubbing against each other lazily, not held in place as tightly as they usually were, to prepare for the upcoming labor. I laid my back on the bare floor to find some relief. And I remember looking up at the ceiling and feeling the tears trickle down to the insides of my ears. I was so fucking tired. And yet, if I didn’t get my pregnant ass off of that floor, I was gonna be tired and hungry. So, I rolled over to my side, then on all fours, then slowly unfolded my spine, scolded myself for taking so long, and hobbled down the four flights of stairs of our apartment building (there was no elevator, y’all) and walked to the grocery store. The manager of the grocery store, Morse Fresh Market, knew that I loved mandarin oranges. They were becoming scarce, and he would keep a crate of them for me every week. I was so thankful for that little treat. Every time that I’d come in, which was at least twice a week, he’d tell me ‘ You getting bigger, mama! He’s gonna come soon! Make sure you rest, ok?!” And I’d hobble around, hoping that I wouldn’t have to pee for the 46th time that day, getting all of the things that were needed, but that I could safely carry in my hands, back home, and up those four damn flights of stairs. 

I did this every week of my pregnancy. After both of my babies were born, though I was sore and stitched, and exhausted from very long, (28 hours with my first and 16 hours with my second) unmedicated labors, I never rested. I breastfed every 2 hours morning and night. I prepared every meal. I did every load of laundry. I did the grocery shopping and prepared the birthday parties, and kept the house clean, and the children alive. I listened to the challenges of my ex’s work and did the extra laundry and ironing for work trips. I was at every preschool event, and once a week, had lunch with my son at school.  I was auditioning and performing  and trying to learn lines. My migraines began coming more frequently, and I would wear my sunglasses indoors, just trying to minimize the pain. And once, after being exhausted to the point that I literally could not do anything but curl into a ball on the couch, I must have just fallen asleep. Fast. My daughter, who was about two at the time, was sitting next to me, watching Bubble Guppies. I woke up terrified during a commercial break to find my daughter, covered in marker. She had drawn all over her face and arms, and was now using baby wipes to try to hide the mess. I laughed and held her, and thanked God that that was the worse that happened during my 7 minute snooze. 

And I have to replay that moment in my head often to ask myself, what is the worst that can happen? If I rest? If I surrender to restoration instead of being drowned and consumed by exhaustion. What is the worst that can happen?

This year has been my year of rest. It has not been easy to lean into. My therapist describes my learning how to rest, my learning how to not catastrophize, my learning how to prioritize myself and establish firm boundaries, as, working out an underdeveloped muscle. Sometimes, I criticize myself for being lazy, when I’m truly just resting because I need to rest. I’m learning to see that need and to meet that need for myself. I’m learning that just because I’m able to do something, a task, a job, re-arranging my schedule to meet someone else’s needs, it doesn’t mean that it is the healthiest thing for me me. Sometimes, I just need to rest, and that has to be a priority. 

So many beautiful things have happened as a result of me resting, this year. For starters, I have more energy. I established a bed time routine that puts me in bed at 10:30 so that I’m awake by 5:15, snoozing my alarm until 5:30. I start my day with ease. I meditate. I breathe deeply. I try to begin my days without haste, so that I am no longer conditioned to believe that being rushed, having constant, never ending demands and expectations, is normal. 

I treat my body well. This body, that has been misused and unseen, that has survived jumping out of mango trees and swinging on clotheslines, and dance injuries, and scrapped knees, and birthing two beautiful, but large little humans, deserves every moment of pleasure that I can give. I plan extra time in my day to take good care of this body that holds me so well.I begin my mornings with deep stretches. I spend 20-30 minutes letting my body inhale and exhale deeply with cardio. I let every part of my body feel exhilarated so I can experience the wide range of life. I take weekly bubble baths. I buy pink roses and lavender to smell while I soak. I treat myself to pedicures, and I make time throughout the day to just lay in the sun. 

I say ‘no’ a lot more. It feels strange, but the consequences have been transformational. 

Again, because I rest, I have more energy. And to do the things that I love, like this blog and podcast. Crazy, right? I recognize that scientifically, that makes sense, but, when you’re unfamiliar with rest, you rely on beliefs that just aren’t sufficient in reasoning or supporting of your health and well being. Some of the beliefs I had were:

-God won’t give me more than I can bear. I can do all of these things!

-I will get used to these demands/schedule. My body will adjust.

-I’m so strong! I can handle this.

-I can’t let everyone down.

-Everything will crumble if I stop.

-I’m being selfish; I can’t stop now. 

Honestly, there is one of those beliefs that I have found to be true.

‘Everything will crumble if I stop.’

This is where shit gets real. Truthfully, when I stopped, my life did crumble. Fucking tsunami style. When I began to crack and see that the system that was my life, was just not operating in a way that was healthy for me, when I decided to stop operating in that system, my life did in fact, blow the fuck up.

The people in your life, who are benefitting from your depletion, will be jolted. They will have to decide how to respond. Sometimes, the things that you feared most, will happen. Sometimes, you will realize that you have been using your inability to rest, your constant doing, your never ending work, as leverage. You have been literally sacrificing your energy, your joy, literally sacrificing your life, for the sake of someone else’s comfort.

And that ‘what the fuck?!” Moment, will be everything that you need to take a fucking nap!

But the beautiful thing, is that the thing that we fear most, after it happens, we see that life goes on. And life can be even more beautiful, more full of wonder and amazement and ease. 

When it’s time for my kids to go to their dad’s it is a point of reset for me now. It is my time to treat myself well. I go to my dance classes and to the gym. I use the time to rest and to become rejuvenated. I go out with friends, treat myself to nice dinners. I order in, I catch up on trashy tv shows, I walk around naked and blast trap music. I sleep in or take naps if I need. And I do it all with joy and gratitude for the space and time to be rested and to enjoy all of the things that make life feel easy to live. 

My kids have adjusted to my rest. They are proud of me for resting. They have seen me being depleted. When they see me yawn, they ask ‘you need a nap, mama?” Just as I respond to them. On weekends, my son, who refuses to wake later than 6:30am, will come in quietly, kiss me on the cheek and say ‘I’ll fix Mimi cereal if you want to sleep in”.. And that's the thing that motivates me. My kids, your kids, if you have them, they are watching you to know how to respond to life. How to respond to demands and who and what to prioritize. It’s always them. I want them to know how to prioritize their health, their wellness, their rest. 

And, I want to clarify, that resting for me, doesn’t mean laying on the couch all day with a pile of junk food around me, although, there is the rare occasion, that I allow myself a treat day. But rest is about restoration. Of body, (taking time to eat and prepare nutrient dense, delicious foods, taking time to rest, sleep, and to give the body physical, sensual and sexual pleasure), mind (clearing out pervasive, negative thoughts, pumping natural endorphins, laughing, learning new interests), and spirit (becoming connected to self and the divine). 

So, here I am,  sitting in my underwear, writing this shit in bed, while my kids are with their dad. Incense is burning, Doja Cat is playing, the salmon is marinating and the wine is chilled. 

What’s the worst that could happen?

You deserve the rest. May you and I create lives that feel good and easy to live. 

Love,

Tereva