a sign to rest
Over the last few days, I’d often find myself back in bed after doing any task, even after a restful night of sleep.
It’s taken me a few days to realize, however, this was my body attempting to tell me something.
I have a habit to adhere to ambition; every time I’ve had a setback in my life, and had regained so much of an ounce of energy or motivation to get back on my feet and keep moving forward, I’d take advantage of it…so much so that’d I’d find myself right back where I began: in a rut, drained of any and every ounce of life once more.
I have a habit to never let myself fully recharge.
I sat at my desk about an hour ago now, ready to clean up an outline that I was excited to write in greater detail about.
I opened my notebook, lethargic of the written word entirely, becoming more dazed and hazed between each letter I’d messily written; without hesitation, I closed my notebook and found myself back in bed beneath the sun claiming my sheets as its own.
I’m burnt out, I’m exhausted of striving and worrying, drained of responsibility— rather, I need rest.
Thinking deeper into this need of mine, I realized that I hadn’t a clue of what type of rest I needed nor what it meant.
