Rest

My kitchen floor was in need of a deep clean. Even with enough disposable income to hire a maid, I still prefer to do my own housekeeping. During deeply transformative periods in my life, I find myself with an undeniable urge to rearrange, declutter, and disinfect. Cleaning has become a spiritual practice for me; a sort of meditative experience leading me to new ideas and creative solutions.

I filled up a bucket with warm soapy water and grabbed a sponge, ready to put in that old-fashioned elbow grease. As I made my way across the faux wood linoleum, my awareness shifted back to the bucket, now clouded and murky. Regardless, I carried on, dunking the sponge and wiping down surfaces. As I scrubbed away a splotch from the wall next to my fridge, a grayish brown glaze was now layered over the eggshell white walls.

I let out a sigh. Stubbornly admitting my defeat, I stood up, grabbed my bucket and went to the sink. As I stood there waiting, I entertained the thought that the dirty water was a symbol of my current mental state. I had been moving through life, going from one task to the next without ever taking the time to replenish my water. The compounding mess on the wall was a symbol of the work I had been producing. Due to this perpetual state of being, I was no longer able to approach life with a clear vision or a fresh perspective. Everything was becoming covered with a residue of resentment and pure exhaustion.

Returning with my fresh bucket, I finished my chore. Relishing in the sweet aroma of lavender Fabuloso dancing on my olfactory system, I took a moment to admire a job well done.

The word "rest" conjures certain images in my mind. Sometimes it is me sunbathing on a beach at an all-inclusive resort in some far away land. Other times it is simply me in my favorite sweatpants lounging around my house for a week ordering takeout. I've turned the idea of rest into an escape fantasy rather than learning how to integrate it into my actual reality.

Over the years, I have witnessed my mom go through cycles of success leading to burnout. And as generational cycles go, I've learned to adopt the same pattern. I've experienced this cycle at least twice in my life. Both times resulted in me bed-rotting for a week watching terrible reruns on TV, ruminating on events I couldn't change and wallowing in self-pity.

These experiences shaped my distorted views on rest. I had come to believe that taking time for it would only lead to feelings of shame and regret. Logically I knew rest was necessary but because I didn't know how to do it effectively, I kept finding myself in the same cycle of only prioritizing it when I hit my absolute limit. However, if there's one thing I have learned, it is that if you don't carve out time for rest, life has a way of forcing it on you.

After my kitchen adventure, I went back to my routine, forgetting all about the dirty mop bucket. I didn't have time for metaphors and reflections. I had Slack notifications, Google calendar events and Jira tickets that needed my time and attention.

Time passed and a couple months later, on a regular Wednesday afternoon, I was let go from my job under very unexpected circumstances.

I was disoriented the first couple of days, not really knowing what to do with myself but also gripped with the fear that I would end up wasting another week of my life in bed. I jumped into action. I started networking, updating my resume, applying for jobs and keeping a healthy amount of tasks on my to-do list. Within the first few days of being unemployed, I had multiple leads on jobs and interviews lined up. I was determined to stay busy.

One task I gave myself was completing a list of goals using the 25/5 rule - a strategy to prioritize your goals to maximize your productivity. The perfect activity to fill my time.

I sat down ready to bust out my list of goals... but I struggled to even come up with five - let alone twenty-five. This wasn't the first time I experienced avolition so I knew it was a warning sign. Even knowing this was a signal of impending burnout, I had no idea what to do about it. I was still grappling with the fear of rest turning into a triathlon of takeout, depression hair and binge watching Netflix.

Amidst all this, an old friend reached out to catch up. This was the same friend who showed up at my door the first time I laid in bed for a week after the end of a tumultuous seven-year relationship. I remembered how she coaxed me off the futon to drive us halfway across the state to the Berry Patch to spend the day foraging and enjoying blueberry lemonade. Returning with a giant bag of blueberries, I baked the best cobbler in the history of fruit pastries. Remembering how refreshed that one day left me feeling versus my week in bed led me to start asking myself...

What leaves me feeling inspired?
What brings back my spark?
What allows me to show up eager to take on whatever comes my way?

I discovered what restores me is having meaningful conversations with people.
Getting in movement, like hiking or bicycling, especially in nature.
Consuming content that is uplifting or educational.
Making something just for the pure enjoyment of it (like my blueberry cobbler).

I decided to take a break from goals, to-do lists and networking and spend a day just doing whatever I felt like. Nothing extraordinary. A morning hike with my dog. Cooking my favorite breakfast. After that I popped in some headphones and headed out the door to enjoy some fresh air and sunshine. About halfway through my walk, without even trying, a sudden flood of ideas poured in. I quickly noted them down before they had a chance to slip away.

I felt a smile returning to my face. I had goals again. A plan for how I wanted to spend my time that excited me. At least for the next six months. Which was enough for me. It was a start. A sign of life, like a little seedling sprouting from my soul's garden reminding me that all it takes is a little bit of fresh water to regrow what has been lost.

Ideas were now flowing out of me like I had tapped into a well, revealing parts of myself I didn't previously have access to. Just a day ago, what felt so difficult and discouraging was now effortless and motivating. Thoughts that would once be dismissed or judged were now free to ride along the current in my mind.

Rest isn't about stopping or standing still. It's about learning what restores you. Understanding which experiences allow you to return to yourself. You can't predict what outcomes you will get from it, but what you can know for certain is that fresh water will produce a better harvest.

And on that note, I am ready to put this reflection to bed.