The tiredness is hitting me hard this week, like the cumulative exhaustion from the past eleven pandemical months has finally caught up with me.
No matter how much I sleep, there is this undercurrent of exhaustion I just can’t shake. More than just my body, my brain is tired. My soul is tired.
It’s been a long year without much relief.
On the outside, my days seem manageable. I look at the tasks and tell myself life shouldn’t feel so overwhelming. But then I remember how long and hard my brain has been working to make sense of a world that is altogether different than I need or want it to be.
There simply isn’t space to recover from the toll of so much constant stress on my body.
I need to learn a new way to rest.
When I don’t listen to my body’s need for respite, it finds a way to get my attention. It happened last weekend.
I had spent the day pushing through the things I needed to get done, working without taking breaks. I guzzled coffee instead of water, to stay energized I told myself, even after sweating excessively during my workout. I ignored the reminder that popped up on my phone after lunch to “stop and breathe,” my daily attempt to prioritize a moment of prayerful meditation. I even stayed in the hot tub way past my normal limit, relishing in the chance to connect with someone I love.
I didn’t pay attention to what my body needed.
Later that night, my son woke up with a bad dream. I jumped out of bed quickly, not allowing myself time to transition from laying to standing, rushing across the house to get him back to sleep.
How many times have I moved too quickly through my days, missing the cues my body gives me about what it needs?
Suddenly, I started to feel nauseous. It was too much too soon after getting up so fast. Trying to get my bearings, I went into the bathroom in case I got sick.
Soon after, my husband found me unconscious on the bathroom floor.
My body had reached its limit and forced me to stop.
The paramedics came and we decided it would be worth an ambulance ride to get checked out and rule out anything serious. After spending a sleepless night in the emergency room, dehydration combined with low blood pressure seemed to be the culprit.
At home the next morning, rest became my only option. Exhausted from the ordeal of the night before, our whole family did nothing but recover for the entire next day.
Maybe that’s the gift of desperation: it forces us to take action where we would otherwise ignore the messages our bodies have been trying to send us.
The impact of this year, the heavy weight we’ve carried uphill for so many months now, it’s feeling heavier than before. Sure, I’m making it through each day. I’m doing the things I know I need, like prayer and exercise and limiting sugar and going to bed early. Most of the time.
But I’m still so tired. Bone weary. Depleted and out of emotional reserves. Desperate for relief.
“Pushing through” isn’t working anymore.
I’ve got to create a new rhythm of rest.
Rest can’t be a luxury reserved for “someday” when things are easier. It’s a necessity for today if we want to navigate this season without losing our minds or breaking our bodies or damaging our souls.
I’m not just talking about checking out from reality. I’m talking about resting in a way that actually replenishes our bodies and restores our spirits.
It’s not just an indulgence for those who have enough time or help around the house or money to go on vacation. Rest is a necessity for our survival.
If we’re going to make it to the other side of this pandemic, we’ve got to figure out a way to take better care of ourselves.
When I look back, it makes perfect sense that we’re tired. We’re made with limits on purpose. We were never intended to push beyond them–we were designed to rest.
Tucked into the teachings of Jesus is an invitation that feels like welcome relief:
“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me–watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”
Breathe deep. Exhale slowly. You don’t have to do more to rest. Just be still and learn from the One who knows exactly what you need.
May the desperation of this season invite us to create a new rhythm of rest that carries us forward in greater health and wholeness, through the pandemic and beyond.
Are you ready to ask yourself some honest questions about what you really need? Here are a few reflections to get you started:
Where are you most desperate for rest right now?
What will happen if you continue to function in the same ways you have this year?
What would actual rest (not the counterfeit, numbing kind) look like this week?
What kind of support can you ask for to get the rest your body, mind, and spirit actually need?