A friend posted an
image to Facebook with the following text:
Nine Types of Rest
1. time away
2. permission to not be helpful
3. something "unproductive"
4. connection to art and nature
5. solitude to recharge
6. a break from responsibility
7. stillness to decompress
8. safe space
9. alone time at home
It was from a group called Trauma-Informed Practice, but I don't know if the content originated there. I re-posted it and it seemed to resonate with other people--one friend used it for her weekly self-care post and another asked if she could share it with her writing group. I've been coming back to it and finding new thoughts each time.
1. time away
This turns out to be enormously important for me. I need to get away and stay away for long enough to really let go of whatever's going on at home. A few years ago there was a whole year when I never made it out of town for longer than a weekend and that turned out to be crazy-making. On the other hand, I spent two months away last year and that was awesome, but when I came home I got super depressed, even though I love my life here. I'm much better now, but still talking about this in therapy.
2. permission to not be helpful
I've gotten a lot better at this over the past decade, but it can still be hard for me not to try to solve other people's problems. It feels so good to be useful to others, but as my mother once wisely told me, that can be its own form of selfishness. I've learned a lot about letting other people also be helpful and about listening without jumping in to fix things. It's a work in progress, but it's definitely good when I can give myself this permission.
3. something "unproductive"
On the one hand, I do spend a fair amount of non-productive time. On the other hand, I rarely give myself permission to be unproductive. There are days when I struggle to do two or three things that count to me and I will sometimes tell Jason "I did a thing! Not useless!" There is also a double-bind operating in my life: it's essential to me that my work be recognized and validated by others, but more importantly by myself. So I have asserted that all of the following are part of my work: laundry, cooking, errands, family scheduling, travel planning, parenting logistics, relationship maintenance, church committee meetings and tasks, activism efforts, theatre meetings/administration/outreach, the work I do to direct shows, the time I spend strengthening and maintaining my communities, and throwing parties. That leaves very little in my life that doesn't count as "work," and so my life/work balance feels out of whack, which is kind of ironic for someone who hasn't held a fulltime paying job in nearly twenty years.
4. connection to art and nature
I don't prioritize this as much as might be healthy for me. I love art of all kinds and spending time immersed in other people's thoughts and images is important. I don't really get a lot out of nature. Don't get me wrong--I love a good sunset, a walk in the woods is a nice break, a pretty view can be breathtaking. But many of my friends and co-religionists seem to find deep spiritual connection there that eludes me. On the other hand, a good play can break my heart right open and I can happily spend hours wandering an art museum, absorbing meaning and memory from the works there. But I almost never get to a museum or gallery unless I'm travelling and I miss half the shows I might enjoy seeing, because other things fill up my time.
5. solitude to recharge
Most people experience me as extremely extroverted, probably because they only see me when I'm out and about. I'm very comfortable with other people and I need conversation and physical contact regularly. But I think most people would be surprised by how much time I spend alone each day. When my schedule has me out and about more than home and alone I get exhausted pretty quickly. Jason and I share office space and we do chat occasionally through the day--and if he has his door open and I'm not engaged in a project, I'm more likely than he is to initiate conversation--but I do need quality time by myself regularly.
6. a break from responsibility
This one is huge. If I've got a magic power it's the ability to say "Let's do this thing!" and have people follow me. I have leadership roles at the theatre and at First Parish and much of the management load of our family has fallen on me. The best thing for me is when someone else makes the plan and is in charge of seeing it through. That's a pretty rare thing in my life, though I've worked to increase it over the past decade. It's actually easiest to let go of responsibility while travelling, when the plans are relatively simple and easy to hand off, which may be part of why time away feels so vitally important.
7. stillness to decompress
My need for this seems to be satisfied by regular, small doses. I get it mostly during shared silence in worship and in srivasana, the resting pose at the end of most yoga classes. It feels very good to me, but I don't seek out greater opportunities to rest in stillness.
8. safe space
This is the one that I know least about. I'm not sure how I would define it. I know a couple of places in my life that feel unsafe, but I am not called upon to spend much time in those. Of course, these days my country feels pretty unsafe and traumatic, and there are definitely spaces where I rest from that barrage of ugliness and offensiveness. This feels like an area for me to explore more fully.
9. alone time at home
Unlike most moms I know, this is one that I do get pretty regularly. With Jason and I both working at home, it's not a daily occurrence, but Jason and Alice travel together (or, like now, separately at the same time) at least two or three times a year. I have to be mindful not to fill that time with other things, but it is a real treat whenever I get it.
If you have thoughts to share about where you find rest and what kinds of rest you need, I'd love to hear them!
This entry was originally posted at
https://lillibet.dreamwidth.org/1317670.html. You can comment either place! There are
comments over there now.