From a balance beam.

types of rest, resistance, and restoration

Jul 18, 2022

Tired.

Much has been penned on the concept of balance. There's a camp that says balance is key and should be strived for to keep equilibrium and achieve success. Another camp says it's a complete myth contrived to control and shame us. Others of us swing both ways.

I try not to think so binary about things like the balance of life, but there are times when it feels like imbalance is too true to deny. So, on the flip side, there must be something like balance. Yes? A fulcrum plus gravity that decides which way it goes?

I've been in an intense season of output: lots of work, writing, selling. It's not that I'm getting no input (I consider these things like reading, leisure and fun, educational and learning activities, relationships that pour into me, inner/soul work), but the pendulum has been swinging way out lately.

A few months ago I admitted to my therapist and friends that I felt like I was getting too busy. It was a few things: the combination of the lifting of pandemic restrictions alongside the transition from Winter to Spring and everyone coming out of hibernation; my own increased workload over the course of the Spring and planning to take a month off in the Fall for a sabbatical; the lives of close friends and family members changing dramatically; upcoming separate trips for Lane and I. It all added up to this vague sense that I was waiting on overwhelm to take a seat next to me and overstay his welcome.

See, I used to overwork myself to the point of illness, chronic stress, and losing myself entirely in the things I thought I was supposed to be doing. It took the overhaul of lockdown, lots of therapy, and some significant epiphanies to arrive at the point where I can see the indicators or flags along the highway to my own destruction. Rather than ignore them, I pay attention. Not only do I not have time for a breakdown, I don't deserve one either. I deserve vitality and creativity and restoration. But that takes work I just don't feel like doing sometimes. I forget about the fulcrum and the symmetry of things.

I saw red flags a few months ago and made minor adjustments. I couldn't get out of the hefty work projects (and didn't want to), so I slowly scaled back on social commitments and said no to some smaller work projects. I cut back to therapy twice a month instead of every week. I apprehensively scheduled some weekends off and away so I would have things to look forward to that would require I actually put work down for even the weekends.

That worked out fine …until I got even busier and life got even wilder. Not by choice, of course. I didn't ask the hot water heater to break, or for a totally separate appliance to flood the living room and ruin the rug, or for pests to come live with us, or my dog to get sick and weakened, or the yard to need major landscaping because the rental company demanded it. But all that happened on top of an already loaded schedule and it put me in a bit of a crisis. I still didn't have the room for real life to rush in when it did. I didn't have the space to deal with emergencies because my priorities were too rigid.

I was at a tipping point, which I recognized, but couldn't seem to talk gravity into obedience. I couldn't keep the balance.

Now what?

That's what I've been wrestling with. We’re already collectively tired and stretched too thin… and world is chaotic right now.

Then I came across this post by the writer Kaitlin Curtice, directed at writers and artists like me, in the wake of our collective exhaustion, and at the time of the Roe v. Wade overturn:

It set me back in myself, my body, my calling: Your work and your rest are sacred.

Rest.

But rest sounds futile, doesn’t it? When injustice the world over calls us to action, when resolve prompts us to fight, it doesn't seem to make sense to do both at the same time – to try the impossible balancing act in a time of crisis. It feels contradictory, paradoxical: but we have to do both.

Act and rest.
Work and renew.
Reconcile and restore.

My friend Jess, who pastors Charis Collective, a missional faith community in San Antonio, Texas, recently published a series on the seven types of rest we need. The basis of the research and ideas are from physician and award-winning author Dr. Saundra Dalton-Smith from her TEDxAtlanta talk, which is fantastic.

Inspired by the two, I brought this rest conversation to my peacemaking small group when I was feeling worn down. Because I was already in need of tools and action toward rest, it was a great time to ditch other plans and talk about it as a group. I didn’t have to spit shine my attitude or agenda because it’s a place we’ve built to be able to show up authentically. I wanted to talk about rest because I needed it, and I was sensing the people around me were too. I was right.

The seven types of rest are:

Physical rest, which can be passive or active
Mental rest
Sensory rest
Creative rest
Emotional rest
Social rest
Spiritual rest

I shared these with the group, along with a few ideas and practices for embodying each kind (which you can find here from Charis Collective), and questions to help us reflect and figure out what we’re doing well and what needs our attention.

Reflect.

Through this lens of focused reflection, I could clearly see how my rhythms and schedule weren't working out for me. When friends asked me how I was, I found myself saying "busy" or "tired" every single time. I think it's reasonable to say if it's the truth, but I was getting annoyed hearing myself tell it over and over.

I hated to only have work to talk about when catching up with friends I hadn't seen in a month because I'd cut out everything I enjoyed doing in order to do everything I was required to do (by contracts and adult responsibility.) I have been working so hard and it has its benefits: I’m learning and doing so much and making professional progress and meeting financial goals and definitely thriving in the creative department. But it’s costing a lot. I was trading lightness for heaviness. Trading health for hustle. Trading connection for isolation.

It was time to pivot.

I set an intention that night. When pondering what kind of rest I needed most, I realized the first thing I was going to have to do was make space after that group gathering to even think about rest, and then make a better plan than the one I'd been deploying. Hearing myself share these seven types of rest and ways to reach them, I realized this: to love and care for ourselves is how we love and care for others, and that’s what we’re going to need to do now. That’s what’s next. Rest and work.

The old ways stopped working for me because I was trying to do one or the other, never both. I'm in a full season that's lasting longer than I thought and I can't hack my way forward any longer. I wasn't going to coincidentally or accidentally become less busy. Since that meeting a few weeks ago, I've made significant adaptations. There have been a few ways I've been intentionally resting, with the elixir of honest self-reflection and conversations with my closest people, and also with Dr. Dalton-Smith's research, and Jess' tangible ideas.

For physical rest, I put habit reminders on my phone to remind me to drink water, move my body, and take my supplements. I'm noticing these little tweaks making big impacts toward helping me physically rest: I sleep better and I have the energy to do gentle yoga when I can.

I also got a COVID booster shot last week, and though the immunity-building phase knocks me flat for a couple of days, it’s beyond worth it to me to have the physical protection and peace of mind for months to come. It’s rest in all categories for me as we continue to endure this pandemic.
For mental rest, I'm setting hard boundaries around working hours and days. I had a good stretch there of about 6 to 8 weeks where I worked seven days a week because projects "needed me" in order to make deadlines. I’m one of those weirdos who actually enjoys the rush of head down, deadline-driven work, but it's not sustainable for long. It also meant I had to lower my own expectations for publishing weekly here on Wandering Home. I could hardly keep up with work and sleep and eating, and it became an optional task. I did miss it though, which is why I am making space to get back in the groove.

I mention this as a form of emotional rest too, but avoiding social media the last few weeks has been a huge relief for me. I also unsubscribed from emails newsletters and blogs that I normally love as input, but weren’t serving me in this season. My rule for right now: if I delete them without reading more than twice in a few weeks, I feel okay unsubscribing.

In addition to protecting my work and mental energy, I've been reflecting and journaling on these questions: what's at the core of my current weariness (today, this week, this season?) What kind of rest do I need right now? With that, what do I wish my friends knew?
For creative rest, I went to a Bright Eyes concert. Since I have a creative production job, creative input and enjoying music or art or beauty is my idea of rest right now, rather than creating anything. I just want to stand there and be in awe.

I’ve also been participating in an online monthly creative session that contains a few minutes of enrichment and creativity prompts, and nearly an hour of personal writing or art-making time. At the end, there’s a reading and ritual of connection where everyone comes off mute and says what they feeling in one word. It’s so loud and chaotic, like when Bruce Almighty begins to hear the “prayer requests” to God all at once. They become a symphony of gratitude and thanks and encouragement. It’s simple and connective for me to commune with other artists as I keep going through this isolated season of making and working remotely, almost always alone.
For emotional rest, the past few weeks (especially since the Roe decision), I've been getting off social media and talking to real life humans in person or live on video. It's felt vital lately.

I recently attended an hybrid/online yoga class recently where we did vinyasas and listened to someone sing and play guitar, and had a roundtable chat on Zoom about what's going on in our lives. It was the day following the Roe decision. In light of that, women shared stories of what being together meant today when no one in their life understood or cared why they were hurting. A female OBGYN in the class shared that the Friday afternoon after the reversal decision was announced, she performed an abortion and cried saying "no one ever wants to have or perform an abortion." Another woman admitted her secret abortion for the first time ever and told us how much shame she feels from others’ responses to the news. These stories matter. The lone man in the class personally donated hundreds of dollars to an abortion fund and told all of us women, “I got you.” Though it was a yoga class I expected to file exclusively under "physical rest", this gathering was a collective exhale, belonging, and resistance - the perfect place to exercise physical and emotional rest.

A place where honesty can thrive is emotional rest in itself, isn't it? Sometimes community looks like talking about rest. Sometimes community is resting in our collective need to be cared for, known, and seen. That’s getting me through.
For social rest, where I realized during the group conversation I was missing the most, I made the most radical shifts. I recently spent a weekend with my sister, Jody, and my Mom shopping and hiking and brunching and F.R.I.E.N.D.S.-ing our way through Denver. One day my best friend (and sometimes her family) joined us for coffee, then brunch, then wine on the patio of our AirBnb under the twinkle lights. It was a dream Saturday night.

I’ve been hosting Lane's climbing partners at our house for a time in Denver while they train with Lane in the mountains for an upcoming expedition, which includes a lot of laughter and connection and totally mundane tasks like cooking and laundry that are made better with others.

A couple weeks ago I attended a wedding and we laughed and cried and danced our asses off; my highlight was dancing with the almost-3-year-old who calls me “Aunt Shelby”. She danced with a grin so large it might have hurt. She'd throw her head back and laugh hysterically, unable to contain the joy and emotion of the moment.

Then I flew to Missouri to see family and celebrate my grandma’s birthday. I got to see my uncle and aunt from South Texas. I got to spend quality time with my parents and with my sister and her fiancée. I also got to have brunch and a park date with one of my closest friends, Hannah, who I hadn’t seen in person since 2019 (her Army family lives in Italy, and formerly Germany.) In the midst of the chaos, fun and laughter and joy and relationships are still essential.

Lane and I are driving up to the 14,000’ summit of Mount Evans and watching a sunset soon. Then we're renting a hooked-up camper near Estes Park to go play in Rocky Mountain National Park alone for a couple of days.

I'm trying my best to make time with friends because I desperately need it, maybe especially when work and real life has taken over.
This is a form of spiritual rest I’ve been trying to practice: delight. I simply decide to enjoy things. And it goes like this:

This book I’m reading is the best book ever. This concert is the joy of my life at the moment, even though I’m annoyed by others in the crowd and the band didn’t play my favorite song. This heat? UGH, but we have A/C this go around. This is the best massage I’ve ever had. This dog is 100% the most uncomplicated joy and love. This time with family is so precious. This plate of fish and hush puppies my Dad fried for my grandma’s birthday celebration is the best meal with the best people I could image right now. I thought this F.R.I.E.N.D.S. Experience would be kind of lame, but it’s really fun and I love seeing other people love what they love. This friend sleeping on our floor is a gift and an absolute pleasure to live with for now. This moment with my dear old friend and her hilarious kids is exactly where I want to be. I don’t think I love anything more than this first cup of coffee in the morning.

I’m grateful. I’m healthy. I’m trying delight amidst the chaos and it makes me happy.

Restore.

Rest and work are parts of a whole, notes in the chord. Restoration is the end goal. In just a few weeks of the restful, soulful way, I’m inching toward staying more grounded and present, no longer careening toward burnout and distress. I’m still busier than I’d like to be, but I’m doing more of the things that make me feel alive. It’s working.

I desperately want to fix the chaos – mine and ours. I want to cure this lack of balance, this pendulum swinging out of control like a flail. To help us make peace. To use my medicine, like Kaitlin said. To cancel debates and instead suggest a cup of coffee or a hug or a maybe an experience of art like a concert because I know that’s how to best cross the divide. To talk about restoration like it's not out of reach. To treat total balance as the myth, not rest. To buck against culture that says our value and worth lies in constant productivity. To turn away from social media and do real life reckoning: with our selves, our bodies, our families, our neighbors, our communities, our institutions. Because times are tough.

I want us to take care of ourselves. I need us to take care of each other. I need us to participate in relational mutual aid for those most affected by the injustices core to our world so everyone can rest.

This is also when we have to rest. And we get to. I know it’s not easy because I’m doing it.

Rest is justice. Justice is work. And in these historic moments, we can and must do both. There's just no other way.

You’ll find me creating as human rights work, embodying resistance and balance, staying rested and present, and working toward a more just and loving world where we can all rest.

In work + rest,