A Journey to the Center of Rest

"Oh, I'm bad at relaxing."

A common refrain of my 12-year-old self whenever the subject came up. This was often in the context of my martial arts training, where control over the tension and relaxation of muscles is paramount in executing proper techniques. I took martial arts practice very seriously, especially once I started competing, so this issue was one of my biggest obstacles.

As the years went on, I heard "relax" countless times from various people, both in training and at school. I felt that I couldn't, though, or else more bad things would happen. I felt like I always had to be on alert, always studying, always accomplishing something. This mix of anxiety, frequent bullying, and perfectionism had made me lose any sort of baseline for a relaxed body or mental calmness. At the time, I was fine with that. I felt it was necessary for my survival, a masculine sign of strength. Dissociation was favored over anxiety; relaxation was seen as "going soft" in my head.

Even now, I am struggling to actively unlearn this mindset. Growing older, developing PTSD and a physical disability, dealing with the COVID-19 pandemic in a large city, and uncertainty about online courses really opened my eyes to the true importance of rest. The ideas that naps were not a sign of weakness or vulnerability, burning out was not actually impressing anyone anymore, and requesting accommodation was not a burden. Sure, these were things I had been telling friends of mine for years, but it's easy to ignore or even contradict your own advice as it applies to yourself.

At the end of 2021, I really want to have hope for 2022. As opposed to resolutions, per se, I set some general goals for the year. These are usually intentionally vague but measurable, such as spending more time with people I care about or being more present. Learning to live idependently has been one for the past three years, and its direction is different each time. Originally, it was learning to be on my own for the first time, as I was going to college that fall. The second year was learning to work through the medical system to make sure I had the care I needed. For 2021, this focus on independent care was learning to adapt my environment to meet my needs.

For 2022, I want to finally learn to rest. Throughout 2020, much like my middle school years, I was in near-constant survival mode as the world fell beneath me. I got tired and slept more, but that wasn't truly resting. I was escaping my thoughts. The first half of 2021 was a blur due to multiple surgeries. The hospital bed I was in before going into the OR was the most relaxed I'd felt in a long time. I still remember how that felt, and it finally gave me a true baseline for physical and mental relaxation. Having to work harder to even just walk is exhausting, and trying to act like my disability didn't exist to try to get that same feeling again was just making things worse for me.

I realized that in 2022 I needed to allow myself to presently rest: resting without thinking about the past or the future. That was the trick to me being relaxed in the OR (along with some drugs, I'm sure), almost like a kind of meditative rest. Of course, this is no surprise to many who practice meditation or spirituality involving it (which I was never good at), nor is it a surprise to the field of positive psychology, which I learned about while taking a course this past semester.

This class truly changed my outlook on my still-internalized feelings about optimism and toxic positivity. My professor addressed every concern, criticism, or other comments I had about anything in the development of the field or its practices. She would eventually go so far as to ask for my opinion of class materials since my more cynical viewpoint gave her insight as well. I realized what was science and what was pop-psych (psychology adapted to popular culture). Her optimism and willingness to be honest about negatives gave me a model for how I could reconcile my negative feelings towards my past and the state of the world and my desire to be happy.

The new year is only 3 days away at the time of writing, and I'm rewarding mtself for the progress I've already made. "I'm not good at relaxing" never comes out of my mouth anymore; I normally say something more helpful both to me and the person I'm talking to, such as: "Sorry, I'll try. It's just extremely hard for me to listen to you all while trying to take line notes for the play." Communication of emotions goes a long way, and I now feel like I am safely able to do so with the people around me.

Now, I'm going to go take a nap. I've done a lot of writing, walking, socializing, and accomplishing chores. Hopefully after a quick rest, I'll feel better mentally and physically, ready to take on whatever comes next. Even if it means I get less done, the stuff I do get done will be done much better, and I won't be exhausted.

I leave you all with my new common refrain of 2022: "I need to rest first."