Learning to Rest: Why Our Nervous System Struggles to Put Work Down
My system has needed to learn that it’s safe to rest and play.
Maybe you’ve noticed this for yourself too—how downtime comes with a sense of urgency, as if you should be doing something productive.
Maybe it feels hard to walk away from work on the weekend.
Or maybe you’ve caught yourself doing this thing so many of us do—filling your schedule to the brim so there’s no space for rest or play.
Here’s what I want you to know: this isn’t a personal failure. It’s not because you’re weak-willed or undisciplined. It’s your nervous system trying to keep you safe.
Why Rest Feels Unsafe
For many of us, achievement was tied to belonging. Productivity was tied to acceptance. Success was tied to safety.
Think back: how did your parents or teachers respond when you got a good grade—or a bad one? Recognition, praise, or even love often came with achievement. As children, we learned:
Achievement = belonging
Productivity = acceptance
Success = safety
Our bodies carried that wiring into adulthood. So when you step away from work, your nervous system may whisper: “If I stop, am I still safe?”
That’s why it can feel uncomfortable—sometimes downright scary—to rest.
An Ancient Story About Learning to Be Human
There’s an Old Testament story about the Israelites after they were freed from slavery in Egypt. As slaves, their lives revolved around making bricks. Brick after brick after brick.
With God’s guidance, Moses led them out of Egypt. They stopped at Mt. Sinai, where God gave the people the Ten Commandments. Not as rules for control, but as guidelines to help them learn to be human again.
Because slavery changes you. It rewires your body and brain for survival.
One of the commandments was the sabbath: to take a break from all work one day a week.
And the story goes that they had a hard time with this one. Why? Because their nervous systems had learned that safety meant bricks.
Learning to Be Human Again
What stands out to me in this story is the reminder that part of being human is resting.
When we never stop working, we’re living like we’re still making bricks. We’re surviving, not truly living.
Rest, play, and stillness aren’t luxuries. They’re necessities. They are what make us human.
So as we head into the weekend, maybe you notice the parts of you that equate productivity with safety. And maybe you can sweetly reassure those parts: It’s safe to stop. It’s safe to rest. It’s safe to play. It’s safe to be human.
A Gentle Invitation
As you look at your own weekend, what would it feel like to give yourself permission to step away from the bricks? To let yourself rest, play, or simply be?
This isn’t indulgence—it’s survival of a different kind. It’s learning, again and again, what it means to be human.