We Are #MightyTogether

Resting is something that I do often. It helps me regulate my emotions, recharge my energy, and exist in quiet spaces alone. But there are times when part of me wonders if I’m actually just avoiding everything I’m supposed to be doing.

Rest is supposed to feel restorative, but sometimes it just feels like pausing without relief. Other times, it comes with guilt, shame, and a sense that I’m being lazy. And when I start feeling that way, it only increases my anxiety and makes rest feel almost impossible.

Avoidance can look almost identical on the outside. Staying in bed a little longer than planned. Letting messages from friends sit unanswered in my DMs. Watching the day move forward without me.

Most mornings, I wake up feeling emotionally heavy. I’ll make my coffee, wander back to bed, and sit there letting out a deep sigh I didn’t even realize I was holding. It often feels like every day is the same—same routine, same emotional weight, same quiet repetition of everything I didn’t manage to change yesterday.

It leaves me feeling stagnant, like I’m stuck in a loop of mundanity that I can’t quite step out of

And I don’t like that feeling—sitting idly by while life happens around me. I want change, spontaneity, creativity, and a life that feels full of possibility. Not one where I’m just waiting for something to happen.

Most of the time, whenever I go out, I become overwhelmed from being in public. I’ll go run errands—gas, medication pick-up, groceries—and feel exhausted afterward. So I tell myself that when I get home, I can lay down for a few minutes before picking back up on my day.

But those few minutes turn into hours of stillness.

I don’t get anything accomplished. I tell myself I’ll do it tomorrow, but that rarely happens because the task becomes too overwhelming. So when the day has ended, I don’t feel restored at all. I feel like I had just paused my life without stepping out of it.

It’s strange because rest and avoidance can look the same, but internally they feel completely different.

Real rest, when I can actually access it, feels like my nervous system is slowly unclenching. Like my shoulders drop. Like I can breathe deeper. It feels like I could re-enter life later without punishment.

Avoidance feels tighter. Like I’m frozen in place but still mentally running. Like I’m waiting for some invisible “right moment” to begin, but it never arrives.

And then there are moments where I realize that I’m not actually avoiding life—I’m just overloaded.

Like the times I run those three simple errands and end up sitting in my car in the parking lot for fifteen minutes before going in, just to mentally prepare for it. I have to wait for my anxiety to ease up before I know it’s okay to move forward.

That distinction has been important for me because sometimes what looks like avoidance is really overwhelm. And sometimes what looks like rest is actually disconnection.

I don’t always like admitting that, because it means I can’t rely on simple labels to understand myself. But it also makes things feel less “good” or “bad” because I notice that I tend to turn it into judgment.

If I’m resting, I’m allowed to be quiet. If I’m avoiding, I should do better. But my body doesn’t respond to judgment. It responds to safety.

So I’ve been trying to shift the question. Instead of asking, “Am I resting or avoiding?” I try to ask, “What am I actually asking for right now?”

Sometimes, the answer is real rest. The kind that doesn’t come with guilt attached to it. Sometimes, it’s one step instead of the whole list. Sitting up instead of standing up.

Either way, the answer usually isn’t shame. It’s adjustment.

I can’t always tell when I’m resting or avoiding life. But I’m learning that I don’t have to label it perfectly to respond to it with care.

What does real rest actually feel like in your body?

“My body is not a machine. I do not have to earn rest.” — Unknown

#MentalHealth #selfcare #Anxiety #Neurodiversity #MightyTogether