Rest is Radical Healing

It’s so hard for folks of color to stop working, to stop moving. We often feel that if we're not doing something then we are wasting time. This is the conditioning we’ve been given by white supremacy. We have to constantly prove ourselves. To prove our worthiness.

It's hard for us to understand that rest is really necessary. We sleep only because our bodies force us to. We push ourselves to the point of exhaustion. But even then, how many of us are getting an adequate amount of quality sleep?

This mentality rings especially true for me as a daughter of Asian immigrants, where my parents—and any immigrants of color, for that matter—have enormous pressure to prove that they deserve to be here, that they could contribute to American society—more specifically and more importantly, to American economics. This, layered upon the already present pressure found in Asian cultures to excel beyond high expectations.

So, to state the obvious: I was raised with the thinking that if I wasn't productive, if I wasn't doing something, that I was worthless. That I was a lazy good-for-nothing. The idea of rest (and play) was foreign to me.

But not always.

As a young kid, I was “lucky” that my parents both worked full-time. They weren’t around to tell me to do this chore or that extra credit assignment. My paternal grandparents, who lived with us, watched game shows and soap operas while me and my younger brother roamed around. We got to play.

We crouched through the boxwoods planted against the front of the house, pretending we were in the jungle. We ran sprints up and down our street, enacting “Chariots of Fire”. We played Cops and Robbers with the neighborhood kids. We rode bikes forever. The days seemed endless.

And when we got tired, we’d just lie in the grass. Or nap on the floor in the family room. Or zone out in front of the tv.

Not a care in the world.

Then we moved.

On the cusp of seventh grade, we moved to a house where the lots were so big you couldn’t see the neighbor’s house. The hills too steep for any kind of fun bike riding. And no kids in sight.

I never felt so isolated.

Even more so because we moved to a mostly white town. 

My Asian-ness was painfully distinct.

When we moved, my much-younger sister was only a year old, and as the Ate, it was presumed that I was to help care for her while my mom went back to work. By this time, my grandparents had moved into their own little house and my maternal grandmother came to live with us. While she did the cooking, I cared for my sister.

And so, began my career in not-resting.

“What are you doing?” my mom would say. Implying: you’d better be doing something productive, like homework or cleaning or taking care of your sister.

When I got to high school, I was in full Asian-overachiever mode. I got even more pressure than usual to get straight As because that would determine whether or not I’d get into an Ivy League school. And if I did that, I have an edge in getting into medical school. (Not that I wanted to be a doctor. But that’s for another story.) My whole life was mapped out for me. And there was no time to waste. 

Yet, I still made time for myself and what I wanted to do. The difference now was that I had to hide it.

I’d hole up in my room—The Cave, my family would call it—because of its placement in the house where natural light made it through the windows for only a few hours in the afternoon. Also, I never left it except to come out for dinner. 

My parents thought I was studying that whole time, doing extra homework, or running through the 264th practice SAT test. Instead, I was resting. Listening to music. Sometimes napping. Writing, Reading. Always reading. 

At least I didn’t have to hide this last one. My parents loved that I loved reading. They thought it was making me smarter. And it was. Just not in the way that they imagined. (I mean, I wasn’t reading medical textbooks or anything like that! Haha!) If I wanted to emerge from The Cave, I’d make sure I had a book to escape in. This way, I could appear to be spending time with the family, but not really have to engage with anyone.

In college, it was all over. Everything was work. Even partying.

There was no rest.

I felt guilty resting.

So, I didn’t.

Would it surprise you to know that I got knocked down by Epstein-Barr virus the spring of my junior year?

The body knows when it needs rest. 

It will demand it if you don’t allow for it.

As for writing? It happened because it was part of my coursework. I had conducted two independent studies my junior and senior years, under the guidance of my beloved mentor, Lee Upton. I enjoyed it so much that I thought, There’s no way this counts as schoolwork! But there it was on my transcript. Three full credits for playing with words. Amazing!

This is how I would rationalize my writing: it was work. I would be a Serious Poet.

But even so, that wasn’t a “real job” so I went out into the workforce after college, biding my time until I could get into graduate school. 

In Corporate America, I went above and beyond my paygrade (because: overachieving Asian), thinking maybe I’ll get the acknowledgment I didn’t get growing up. Maybe I’ll finally feel worthy.

If I just worked hard enough.

If I just put in more hours.

There was no time for rest.

Until I had my first baby.

Then, I finally learned how important rest was, not just for the body, but the mind and spirit as well. All those adages: Happy mommy, happy baby and Sleep when baby sleeps. BUT just because I learned about its benefits doesn’t mean I actually did it.

There was so much guilt I had to shed. I should be preparing the next bottle for the baby. I should start cooking dinner. Never mind that I just came home from the hospital yesterday. The laundry needs to get done. If I don’t do it, no one else is going to do it.

There were so many lies I had to let go of in order to feel worthy of rest. If you’re not working, you’re wasting time. So, why are you even here? Naps are for the weak. We’ll sleep when we’re dead.

So many stories.

*

As a woman of color—and specifically an AAPI woman of color—I was given messages that I had to work hard to earn my place in the world. And that my place, I found out, wasn’t even a highly regarded place. It was almost as if I were fighting (working) for my mere existence. No matter what I did, it was never good enough. And so, I also internalized this message to equate that I wasn’t good enough. 

Couple this non-enough-ness with racism and the constant attack on our very BEING? The nervous system lives under perpetual duress. It burns out until the body says enough and shuts down beyond our control.

But if we’ve been at this fight for a while, then we’ve gotten good at overriding the body and just keep going. Until it manifests into more serious illnesses like autoimmune diseases and fibromyalgia.

I do not exaggerate when I say rest is an act of radical healing.

The hard part is trust.

Trusting that rest will actually help us optimize our minds, energize our spirits, and rejuvenate the body. Trusting that taking the time to rest will actually give us more time.

And that’s no easy task. But we must.

If we are to heal ourselves, we must let go of the guilt, let go of the lies that DOING is more important that BEING. 

And rest. Truly, deeply rest.

Some ideas for rest:

Allow yourself to nap. Read easy and free books (note: don’t try to “maximize” your time by reading some heavy intellectual book on anti-racism! Your mind will be working too hard and so undermine the intention of rest.) Just lie around. (*gasp!* and do NOTHING?? Scandalous! Haha!) Soak in an Epsom salt bath. Listen to music (without pairing it with something “productive” like folding laundry. Just listen.).

A tip to ease into the practice of rest:

Try just a few minutes of rest at a time. Maybe lie down, put your phone on Do Not Disturb, set a timer for 5 minutes, and close your eyes. If you fall asleep, great! If not, at least you took a little break to rest. (You’ve got to get your mind on board too. So, try avoid making to-do lists in your head. Instead—and don’t laugh—but try counting sheep leaping over a fence. Or pay attention to your breathing and how it feels in your body.) As you get used to taking rest breaks, increase the time little by little. Pretty soon, you’ll have a regular practice of rest incorporated into your daily schedule!

Join me for some radical healing in community rest tomorrow evening, March 30th 7-9pm. Details are at here. A portion of the proceeds will go to AAPI Women Lead, an organization empowering women and girls for social change.