I Would Rather Be In Bed

What is resting to you?

Because to me, it’s… elusive. A myth. A unicorn galloping off into the distance while my brain argues with itself over whether the sky is blue or just pretending to be.

My mind is constantly at war — with itself, with my to-do list, with the absurdity of society — and lately, it’s started squinting at everything. Including this screen. Yes, I had to zoom in to write this because, apparently, 38 is when your eyeballs decide to opt out. I guess this is the beginning of end-of-life care, right?

Anyway. Back to rest.

What even is rest anymore? Especially here in the good ol’ U.S. of A., where chaos is our national pastime. We’ve got political unrest, skyrocketing costs of existing (let alone living), crumbling healthcare systems — both as providers and patients — and a mental load so heavy it needs its own zip code.

Throw in parenting, caretaking, debt juggling, trying to drink water and pretend we’re not falling apart — and tell me, where exactly does rest fit into that circus?

Here’s the truth: it doesn’t.

Because even when we try to rest, the guilt shows up. “Shouldn’t you be doing something productive?” The echoes of toxic work ethic passed down from generations who were told that 40 hours a week would earn you a white picket fence and a livable income — well, that idea crumbled right alongside Blockbuster and affordable healthcare.

Now, a 40-hour week barely keeps the lights on — and god forbid you admit that out loud. People will ask why you didn’t choose a better job. Why you didn’t “aspire” to more. And if you’re a mother who wants to give her time to her children? Suddenly you’re lazy, unambitious. “Well, other moms work. Why can’t you?”

The pressure is unrelenting. The expectations are ridiculous. And the narrative? Rigged.

So how do we stop?

How do we quiet the noise and say — without guilt — that rest is a right, not a reward? That wanting peace and time with the people we love isn’t selfish — it’s human. That taking one damn day to do nothing but breathe and be still is not laziness. It’s survival.

Honestly? I have no freaking clue.

Because as someone with anxiety, depression, and ADHD, I’m not just battling life. I’m also battling a brain that wants me to simultaneously do everything and nothing at all. And lose my mind about it either way.

Yes, I’m medicated. Yes, I read the books and do the therapy. I even meditate and stare at Buddhist quotes like they’ll open a portal to enlightenment and eight hours of sleep.

But you know what my plan was today?

To rot. Read. Journal. Nap.

You know what I actually did?

Built patio furniture. Cleaned the house. Walked the dogs. Caught up on schoolwork. Watched one movie and felt guilty for sitting that long.

Sound familiar?

Yeah. It’s not just me. It’s everyone.

We’re all burnt out, wired, overwhelmed, and pretending we’re fine with it. But maybe — just maybe — it’s time we start redefining what rest looks like. Not as a luxury, but as something we fiercely protect. A boundary, not a bonus.

So here’s what I’m reminding myself (and maybe you need to hear it too):

You are allowed to rest.
Even if the laundry’s not done.
Even if the to-do list is mocking you.
Even if your brain says “be productive.”
Even if society says “do more.”
Even if you don’t know how.

You are allowed to rest simply because you exist. And damn it, existing is exhausting enough.

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Want to share your own version of “rest”? Leave a comment or just scream into the void with me. Either works.