We’ve been reading a lot lately about how hard it is for many of us to actually rest.
Not just collapsing on the sofa with Netflix. Not even a social event. But rest as in: time away from the to-do list. Time without an agenda. Time that’s wanted, needed, and nourishing—and yet still somehow denied.
I (Sally) notice it in myself all the time.
Even here in Costa Rica, where life is softer, slower, and a million miles from the relentless pace of London, I catch myself in that old habit: just one more thing. Just one more email. Just one more quick job before I go outside. We joke here that I have a regular plan to lie in the hammock with a book … and I only manage it occasionally. Which, honestly, is a vast improvement—but still makes me wonder:
Why is it so hard to give myself permission to rest?
My story is that I have so much to do, that there isn’t time. But really? No time for 30 minutes in a hammock? There is always time for what is prioritized.
Lately I’ve been following therapist Annie Wright, and one of her posts really stayed with me. She wrote that avoidance of stillness is a coping mechanism too. “Productivity becomes not just a goal but a survival strategy—a way to regulate an otherwise dysregulated nervous system”. And that hit home. If you grew up making everyone else happy, or getting approval for doing and achieving, then stillness can feel unsafe. Confusing. Unfamiliar. As no-one around you was doing it either.
“Being present” wasn’t talked about back then. And even now, society still rewards productivity over peace, achievement over well-being. No wonder the inner architecture of my nervous system leans more easily toward doing. Rest just doesn’t have the same dopamine hit as ticking something off the list.
So how do we change that? How do we practice rest in a way that doesn’t feel like failure or indulgence? How do we quiet the voice that says “you’ll rest later” or “just finish this first”?
That’s the question we’ve been exploring here at Tula Vida. Next time I’ll share how the land—and especially the horses—are helping us practice a gentler way.