I was running on empty. A well that’d run out of water. Dry. Thirsty. And famished. I knew I needed to stop. Like most people, I ignored the warning signs.
Every day that week I had appointments after work. Clocking a twelve-hour shift at the school for parent teacher conferences was the norm. Spending another twelve-hour shift nursing my period after it wasn’t.
I was up all night in agony. I probably should’ve called off work, but as a teacher, I knew it would honestly be more stressful. With what strength I had, I made it to the school only to embarrassingly ask for a heating pad 3rd period. Attending pelvic floor therapy that evening and picking up groceries were poor choices. Two restless nights. Pain surrounded me.
By my Friday counseling session, I knew I was breaking. After another writing training and dance that Saturday, I had to throw in the towel. Cancel plans and appointments I’d made. I was overscheduled. I over-committed myself. Again.
I’ve heard it said that you must prioritize taking care of yourself, or you’ll be forced to do so in the future. Apparently, now is my future.
My mind glazes over my to-do list. Thoughts spiral. Anxiety consumes me. The pain I’ve experienced the last few days is unfathomable. What do you do when you can’t anymore? When you can’t take the pain? The overwhelm? The medications not working? The brain not functioning? The focus ceasing? The weariness growing?
I wish I had an answer for you. Any answer. The answer. I don’t. But I'm learning and attempting to find them. Resting this Saturday is my first step. Not to cancel plans to go back on my word, but to prioritize taking care of myself and focusing on what matters, the things that truly deserve my time, energy, and effort.
Growing up, my Grandma Memo used to tell me I was too busy and needed to allow time for rest. She’s been preaching this message to me since I was probably ten years old. I’m still not listening to it like I should. I’ve denied her claims often. If I’m honest, she’s right.
At twenty-seven, I’ve grown increasingly aware of my addictions and struggles. My fallenness as a human being on this earth. Productivity, busyness, ceasing to rest, overcommitting, and driving myself into the ground all top the list. It’s no wonder anxiety, depression, and a dozen physical health concerns haunt me. I’ve been neglecting me. I’ve been neglecting what Jesus says is really important. I’ve been trying to do all the things when in reality, it’s doing more harm than good.
After a conversation with my husband, we realized that I’ve had these problems for a long time. As painful as that is, I had to realize one truth: I can’t fix something in a day that was created over decades of trauma, workaholism, and trying to do and be more. Neither can you.
The good news is that every day is a new opportunity. God’s mercy starts over again. With less ceasing and striving, and more abiding in Him. In taking care of myself. In prioritizing some but not all things.
A lot of people who struggle with an addiction to productivity and busyness also struggle with anxiety, depression, and the fear of missing out. Those things would accurately describe me. But people who have these difficulties may also struggle because they fear the silence. They fear what will happen if they stop. Pause. Rest. If even for a moment.
I never realized how much I feared silence until I set a timer for ten minutes. My mind fought me the entire time. Listing tasks. Taunting words of shame. Lies. Laziness. Pride. Wasted space and energy. I thought back to my early college days. When I would spend late nights, early mornings, and gentle afternoons praying on my knees in the silence. Listening. Waiting to hear. Not fearing the absence of noise. Enjoying its presence. Awaiting new birth to rise from negative space. I wonder how I’ve fallen so far.
Much can happen when we try to take control of our own lives. When we start believing the lies that we are superhuman, can do everything, never stop or take a break. At least that’s what’s happened to me.
But I’m not superhuman. I’m a human being.
I’m not a robot created for mass production twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. I’m created by God for His purpose.
I’m not created to crave productivity every waking second. I’m created for work and rest.
Not every waking second is space created to fill. Perhaps it’s space meant to be. Not do, but be.
I buy into the lie every day that I need to work myself to the grave. Teach full-time, write articles, participate in an author program, see five doctors, and the list goes on and on.
The truth is that Jesus doesn’t want me to live life this way—endlessly chasing the wind of to-do lists that will never end. He wants me to do what I can but rest in Him with the rest.
I once told my husband that I feel I can never rest because there’s always something else that needs to be done. He said if that was the case, circumstantially, no one would ever rest. There’s always more work to do. He’s right. There is. And that’s why anxiety and addictions take that motto and run with it. But as he reminded me, that’s even more reason to rest.
It’s impossible to do everything. We are each given twenty-four hours a day, no bonuses or extensions no matter how hard we push.
Today, I’m trying hard to embrace this. To rest when I feel like I should be accomplishing tasks and doing more. Just sitting here isn’t pretty or fun. And while writing this article might not seem restful, it’s therapeutic to me.
I feel under the weather. I sense a cold coming on. On top of allergies.
Uncomfortable. Sick. Defeated. Weak and utterly embarrassed. I feel like a letdown for canceling plans. I feel ashamed that I can’t keep up. That I keep struggling with over-commitment and running myself into the grave. I’ve only done it to myself.
The lump in my throat swallows deep to the bone. Despite the uneasiness, I know it’s right. I know it’s how to become well. Because Jesus created me with limited time, energy, and space for a reason. Perhaps to ensure we’d not care for everything, but what’s essential.
I’m learning to reprioritize. To do less and be more. To rest. To prioritize a sense of Sabbath. That’s probably why Jesus listed it in the Ten Commandments. He knew we’d be tempted to skip it.
It’s going to be a journey, but I know the Lord’s strength will be what sees me through. I know it’s what will sustain those of you joining me on this adventure as well. Rest well today, my friends. I’ll be joining you and cheering you on.
Agape, Amber
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