Stillness Isn’t Laziness: Reclaiming Rest in an Anxious World

In a world where productivity is praised and busy-ness is worn like a badge of honor, stillness can feel foreign - uncomfortable, even dangerous. We’re taught, explicitly and implicitly, that movement equals worth. That doing means succeeding. That stopping means falling behind. I cannot tell you how many times a client has looked at me, eyes wide with uncertainty, and asked, “Isn’t it selfish to take time out for myself?” The question reveals just how deeply we've internalized the idea that rest must be earned and how radical it can feel to choose stillness. The question is not whether rest is necessary - it is - but how we learn to allow it, trust it, and ultimately reclaim it.

Why Stillness Feels So Uncomfortable

The discomfort you feel when you stop moving isn’t just in your mind - it’s in your body, too. Many of us have nervous systems that are trained for vigilance. We’re on alert, scanning for danger, managing expectations, juggling responsibilities, chasing a sense of "enough-ness." In these states, stillness can feel unsafe or disorienting. Our bodies are conditioned to expect that silence means something bad is about to happen. That if we stop, everything might fall apart.

Culturally, we’ve internalized the idea that rest is something to earn - after the kids are taken care of, the dishes are done, the inbox is cleared, the body is toned, the goals are met. But that list never ends. The result? We are left suspended in a loop of striving, restlessness, and burnout.

And for those who have lived through trauma or chaos, movement often becomes a survival strategy. Staying busy may have once been a shield - a way to avoid vulnerability, pain, or memories that surfaced in the quiet. In that light, rest doesn’t just feel indulgent. It feels unsafe.

The Biology of Rest

Rest is not laziness. It is a biological imperative. The body is not meant to operate in a chronic state of stress. Our nervous system has two branches: the sympathetic (fight/flight) and the parasympathetic (rest/digest). In a balanced system, we toggle between the two, mobilizing when needed and returning to calm when the threat has passed.

But many of us live with our foot on the gas, stuck in sympathetic overdrive. This affects everything from our digestion and immune response to our mood, sleep, and emotional regulation. True rest - intentional, unstructured, spacious stillness - activates the parasympathetic system. It signals to the brain and body that we are safe. That we can soften. That we do not have to earn our right to exist.

And yet, the moment we try to slow down, we’re met with resistance - mental chatter, fidgeting, the sudden urge to check our phones or clean something. That’s not failure. That’s evidence of just how overtrained we are in doing. It takes time and kindness to rebuild your relationship with rest.

The Messages That Keep Us Moving

We carry many internalized messages about rest and stillness:

• “If I stop, I’ll fall behind.”
• “Rest is for people who have nothing better to do.”
• “I’ll rest when everything’s done.”
• “If I’m not productive, I’m not valuable.” - Another version of this one I have heard is, "If I'm not productive, I'm not contributing."

These messages often originate in family systems, school, work environments, and social norms. They’re reinforced by a culture that equates success with sacrifice and idolizes exhaustion as proof of commitment. But what if we questioned those messages? What if we named them - and then chose differently?

Gentle Ways to Begin Reclaiming Stillness

Reclaiming rest is not about doing nothing. It’s about being with yourself without the constant need to justify, fix, or distract. Here are a few ways to begin:

1. Start Small and Somatic

Set a timer for five minutes. Sit or lie down somewhere quiet. Put one hand on your chest and one on your belly. Notice the rise and fall of your breath. That’s it. Five minutes of being. No agenda, no expectation. Let your body practice stillness in digestible doses.

2. Notice the Urge to Flee

Stillness often surfaces uncomfortable feelings - boredom, anxiety, even grief. When you feel the pull to get up or grab your phone, pause and ask: What am I feeling right now? What am I trying not to feel? This awareness is a form of healing in itself.

3. Create a Ritual of Rest

Maybe it’s a warm drink in the morning before the world wakes up. A few quiet moments before bed with a candle or soft music. A walk with no destination. Rest doesn’t have to mean napping (though that counts, too!). It’s any intentional act of non-doing.

4. Redefine Productivity

What if rest is productive? What if stillness is where ideas are born, healing happens, and creativity flourishes? Our nervous systems need spaciousness to integrate and grow. You are not a machine. You are a living being. You are allowed to pause.

5. Speak Kindly to Yourself

When guilt or discomfort arises around rest, try affirming: Stillness is not laziness. My body is allowed to rest. I am not behind. I am safe to slow down. Speak to yourself the way you would to someone you love. Especially the parts of you that still feel afraid.

The Invitation

Stillness is not a void - it’s a presence. It’s where we remember who we are beneath the noise. It’s where the nervous system recalibrates, where clarity finds us, and where we can begin to feel whole again - not because we’ve earned it, but because we already are.

In a world that tells you to go faster, the radical act is to slow down. To be still. To reclaim rest not as a luxury, but as your birthright.

You are allowed to pause. And in that pause, you just might find your way home to yourself.