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When Rest Feels Unsafe: Why We Struggle to Rest, and How to Slow Down Gently

We all know we should rest.

We see the reminders everywhere: Rest is productive. Rest is necessary. You deserve rest.

And yet...When we finally lie down, breathe deeply, and try to stop - something stirs.

Something tightens in the chest.

Guilt. Restlessness. Discomfort. Even fear.

It’s easy to say “just rest.”

But for many of us, why we struggle to rest is rooted in much more than scheduling - it’s about safety, shame, and survival patterns.

And rest doesn’t feel safe.


A peaceful rest space with a blanket, tea and juice, in autumn, representing slow, grounding moments of rest


Why we struggle to rest


This isn’t about laziness.

It’s not about being bad at self-care.

It’s about what rest represents - and what it confronts.


For some of us, rest means:

  • Facing feelings we’ve been outrunning

  • Losing the sense of control that constant doing provides

  • Confronting a fear that we’ll be seen as weak, lazy, or selfish

  • Having no distraction from the ache of exhaustion, loss, or burnout


Rest can feel like a threat when your nervous system has learned that movement equals safety.


Then stopping… doesn’t feel good.

It feels dangerous. Foreign. Exposed.


The Burnout Loop: When rest feels worse than running

Burnout isn’t just about being tired.

It’s about being disconnected from safety.

So we stay in motion - even when we’re drained - because doing feels safer than stillness.

And here’s the kicker:


When we finally try to slow down, our body panics - and we interpret that panic as proof that we can’t rest.


So we get up. We keep going.

We override. Again.




The guilt of slowing down

Even when we're not in full burnout, many of us feel guilty for resting. Why?

Because rest has become a moral issue.

We live in a world that praises:

  • Hustle

  • Endurance

  • Sacrifice

  • Overachievement

And rest?

It’s seen as optional.

As lazy.

Or as a luxury.

So we say things like:

  • “I’ll rest when I’ve earned it.”

  • “I don’t have time.”

  • “I need to catch up first.”

But what if rest isn’t something to earn - but something to remember?

A skill. A right. A reconnection.

The art of slowing down (when it feels unsafe)

So how do we start, especially if rest makes us anxious?

We don’t force stillness.

We build safety around it.


Here are some gentle ways to begin:

1. Micro-rest

Start with 2–5 minutes of intentional pause.

No phone. No tasks. Just sit, breathe, lie down, stretch, or stare at the sky.

2. Name the discomfort

Instead of pushing through, try saying:


“I notice that resting makes me feel anxious / unproductive / twitchy. That’s okay.”


Acknowledging it softens its grip.


3. Pair rest with grounding

Do something gentle while resting:

  • Hold a warm cup of tea

  • Cuddle a pet

  • Breathe with music

  • Wrap yourself in a blanket


So your nervous system feels supported, not abandoned.


4. Redefine what rest looks like

Rest isn’t always meditation or naps.

It’s also:

  • Lying on the floor

  • Saying no

  • Not replying immediately

  • Doing one less thing

  • Breathing deeply between tasks





You don’t need to earn it

You are not a machine. You are not only as valuable as your output. You are not broken for needing rest - you're just human.


If rest feels unsafe, you're not doing it wrong — you're learning to relate to yourself differently.

Start where you are.

Rest in seconds, in sips, in silent moments. Let rest be a practice, not a performance.


A calming quote graphic with the words “Rest is not a reward. It’s a necessity.” - offering a gentle reminder about the importance of rest.

Final Reflection


What comes up for you when you try to rest?

Is it guilt? Fear? Restlessness?

What would it feel like to let that part of you be seen - and offer it gentleness instead of shame?





🌿This space is slow, intentional, and rooted in real life. If you'd like to keep walking this path with me, sign up to receive new posts by email.



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