Slow down, you crazy child.

Do you rest well? I do not. I am an on-the-go gal, thoroughly. My planner is full of coffee dates, and events, and if there is an inch of blank space, I am quick to call someone to fill it. My weeks are, more often than not, scheduled to the last second by Sunday night.

For a long time, I kept my calendar full because I was on the run from my fears about being alone and missing out. Then it just became habit to always, always have someplace to go. Only recently have I started to feel this little tug to just, like, chill. It's a very new sensation. But there are times when what I really do want is to just be at home.

The habit of always being busy is a hard one to kick. Even as I feel myself getting mentally exhausted, I still schedule one more coffee hang. Something in me feels the need to move, always. What is that? Why can I not rest?

So, yesterday was a Saturday. My morning was stacked high with plans for the farmer's market and monthly flea market, all with dear friends. Which is great. But Friday evening, one after the other, the plans fell through. My brain immediately jumped into hyperdrive. Gotta make new plans, who might be free? Who have I not seen in a bit? My fingers were literally hovering over my contacts list, when I felt the tug again. The tug to just. rest.

Oh. You mean I don't need to be busy tomorrow morning? It's okay to wake up to no plans?

So I did. Saturday morning, I slept in and awoke to bright winter sunshine bouncing off a fluffy dusting of snow. I stayed in my pajamas until noon. I made coffee. I started a new book, and got pretty far into it. I painted. Then I got a little antsy, so I called my mom. Which felt really good, because if I go too long at the start of a day without talking to someone I get stir crazy. Two of my roommates came back mid-morning and we shared big thoughts and also sat in quietness. For the first time in a long time, I wasn't doing. I was just being. And there was this light, airy sense of freedom around that whole beautiful morning that I realized was the spirit of restfulness.

I didn't leave my house until late afternoon. But the day didn't feel wasted, like I kind of thought it would. It had been a full day. A day of good talking, good thinking, and sweet rest. Instead of feeling spent, I felt full. Instead of needing to make plans happen, I felt content to let plans happen.

Starting now, I'm going to be a lot more intentional about taking time to rest. Because what yesterday taught me is that rest is joyful. And very, very necessary. If I can learn to rest, I will be better for it. For so long I relied on my community to fill me up. It got to the point where I literally needed them to survive. And, while community is great, if we treat community as a lifeline we will wear ourselves and everyone else out. If I don't know how to rest, and to be filled up in the stillness of solitude, I will become a taker instead of a giver. Which is not what I want at all. I want to be able to pour out as much as I'm being poured into, and not have to hang on to people for dear life. And I'm starting to think the key to being able to pour out is to know when to rest.