The inspiration for this blog came when I recently went for a one-hour massage. In theory, it should have been relaxing. My body was physically there on the table; it was surrendering, but my mind absolutely refused to cooperate.
The entire first half of the massage was spent mentally cycling through everything waiting for me outside the room. Things I needed to buy. Bills. My kids. Every possible project I want to do on my house. Appointments I had to remember. Work. You know, the usual. The endless invisible checklist that never lets up.
It took almost forty-five minutes for my brain to finally settle down. And when it did, I remember thinking how strange it was that the peace of mind I was so desperate for felt so unfamiliar.
That experience stayed with me because I think this is the norm for many of us.
I think many of us are carrying so much mental noise that silence itself almost feels like a threat. Much like any other muscle, the brain adapts. It becomes so accustomed to anticipating, remembering, solving, preparing, and emotionally managing that it forgets how to simply exist without performing some kind of task.
Lately, I have paid close attention to how much intentional effort it takes to take care of ourselves. I’ve started going to the chiropractor now because, apparently, my nighttime stress response is aggressively grinding my teeth into dust while I sleep. He kindly confirmed that it really is a nervous system issue. So he snaps, crackles, and pops the tension out of my neck and spine. I continue with yoga partly to move energy around, partly to stretch out the physical tension living in my body, and partly because I would really like to experience one single thought-free moment before I die.
And honestly, it helps.
And it’s not a healed overnight kind of thing. It’s more of a “my nervous system briefly remembers it is not being chased by a bear” kind of thing.
I think many adults have become so accustomed to functioning under constant pressure that we no longer recognize how overloaded we actually are. And we perform so well that nobody else recognizes it at first either.
In turn, we become overstimmed. Noise is too loud. Light is too aggressive. Clothes feel like they are assaulting us. And you can feel every strand of hair on your head. And when you react, suddenly you’re a monster to those around you.
Like, “everybody chill out, I’m just a girl.”
Personally, my son was finally diagnosed with ADHD, which is a story for another blog. Real ADHD. Not the one that everyone diagnoses their children with because they have a few bursts of energy, and a survey online says they have it. The kind that I probably have, but it remains undiagnosed. Woops.
Between constant movement and sound that does not always register the same way for him, my house is basically a live event showcasing the most elite fart sounds from the mouth, with no sound check, and the only pause button we get is in a bottle inscribed “melatonin.”
I used to think I just needed rest.
But now I think sometimes I actually just need silence, a dark room, and for any fabric besides my pillow case and quilt to stop existing. But since that’s rarely, if ever, realistic, I am committed to learning how to cope with life in this season.
A one-hour massage was supposed to be simple. A reset. A pause. But what it really showed me is how rarely I actually pause without olympic-level effort.
So, here’s my challenge to myself and to ya’ll this week.
Create one small moment where you are not trying to catch up with your own life. Stop fixing it. Stop managing it. Just let it exist without you directing it.
Even if it is only 15 minutes.
Especially if it is only 15 minutes.
-SS
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