I had a conversation with a friend recently about the challenge of taking breaks, when our bodies demand rest, yet our minds yearn for action.

His question wasn't when can I rest? but when can I stop resting?

The reality of rest for chronically ill people

Most people, when they think about rest, think of it as a reward, or an enjoyable change of pace at the end of a challenging day's work. Rest might also be something active for them, like going to the cinema, or going out for a drink with friends.

But for many of us with chronic illnesses, rest is very different. For us, it's not a reward or a source of enjoyment. It’s not a luxury, but a necessity, an obligation that we neglect at the risk of becoming severely ill, or incapacitated. And not just for a short perod of time, as most people might experience when recovering from an acute illness or injury, but for our entire lifetime.

Struggling with rest

The frustration of feeling sidelined in our own lives can be intense, leading to chronically ill people resisting rest. This internal conflict often leads to cycles of overexertion followed by crashes of energy and flare ups of pain, making it difficult to commit to plans or activities.

These cycles can erode our self-esteem and self-worth, having a corrosive effect on our self-esteem and self-confidence. We lose our belief in ourselves as valuable human beings with a unique contributon to make, who deserve to see our desires and visions become reality.

Like all human beings, we have a well of creativity within us, a drive to make things happen in our own lives, in our families, in our communities, and in the world. But working out how to do that when you don't know when or how doing stuff is even possible for you can make life feel like it's getting further and further away, like you’re constantly missing the boat, even like your life is a waste.

Reframing purpose

The thing that really sparked my attention in the conversation that I had with that friend was the idea of wanting to take a break from resting. Something happened in my mind and flipped everything on its head.

What would happen if I viewed rest, not as a setback to pursuing my purpose, but as a core and fundamental part of that purpose?

To my surprise, I have a massive amount of resistance to this shift. I've put a lot of effort over the decades into accepting that I can fulfill my purpose just by being, but it seems that acceptance only applies when I am still active, still doing, in some way.

I believe this continued internal resistance to rest is because it challenges deeply ingrained societal beliefs that equate our worth with our productivity, and an undercurrent of thinking that insists we have to earn belonging and safety through our accomplishments and contributions.

Navigating grief and accepting change

The last two weeks, I've been forced to rest almost completely by pain from a shoulder injury, and also muscle strain from physiotherapy exercises (lolsob - the very thing that was meant to help, set me back even further).

It's been a more intensive and longlasting bootcamp in surrendering to rest than I've experienced in a very, very long time. It's also come at a time when I am physically alone and geographically isolated. Balancing my need to rest with my need for food and other basics has been incredibly challenging.

I've had to allow myself to be vulnerable with people I don't know well, in order to get my needs met.

I've had to face just how disabled I am - by my conditions, by where I live, and by society - head on.

I've had to let go of who I have believe I am in a completely new way.

And I’ve had to open to grief. Grief for the goals I will never achieve, and the experiences I will never have. And grief at having to let go of versions of myself and my life that I am still very attached to.

It's feels complicated, painful, sticky, heavy: not just the loss, vulnerability and grief, but the practical question of how I can make a life where my needs for shelter, food, and access to services - all of which require income - and my need to centre rest can work together?

Holding change lightly

I've been thrown back onto what I teach clients and community participants - the things that I know work, but that are so very hard to apply in my own life.

1. Everything is an experiment: What happens when I view doing things as a break from resting, not the other way around? What's the absolute minimum I can do and still be okay? What have I taken on, thinking it's my responsibility, when really it's an unnecessary obligation I've placed upon myself?
2. Staying in the present: Bringing my focus back again and again to what I need right now and how to get it, instead of trying to work out how to reorganise my entire life in the next five minutes. Being present to my body, even with all of its pain, and breathing into my pain, emotions and thoughts.
3. Pacing myself. Using the tools I've created for myself and my clients. Doing just a bit of something, then pausing and checking in - even when what I really want is to hyperfocus and deep dive. Not staying in one physical position for too long. Paying attention to even the smallest physical signals of discomort, and gently acting on them.
4. Exquisite self care and self compassion. Recognising when I'm pushing, and making the decision to step back. Letting it be okay for me to make mistakes. Treating myself with tenderness and kindness, not anger or punishment.

What's your experience?

I’m curious about your thoughts on this topic. How does the idea of prioritizing rest resonate with you?

• What would it mean for you to see rest as a fundamental part of your purpose?
• What changes would be necessary in your support network and in society to make this a viable option for you, and for others living with chronic illness?

Please do share your experiences and insights in the comments, or you can drop me an email.

Taking care of yourself

Remember, prioritizing your wellbeing is a radical act of self-love. I hope you’re finding ways to take care of yourself in meaningful ways, and get your needs met in ways that work for you.

Sending you love and solidarity, always.

Elinor

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