Sacred Rest: From Over-Functioning to Soft Life
This morning, I baked chocolate banana bread while the rain fell gently outside. I opened the patio door, peppermint diffuser filling the air, and watched two golden dragonflies dart across the yard. Pandora was playing softly in the background. It was ordinary, simple, and sacred.
And yet, for most of my life, moments like this were impossible. Rest felt unsafe. Stopping meant disappearing. My worth was measured in achievement, performance, and perfection — and anything less than proving myself felt like failure.
Why Over-Functioning Becomes Our Default
When I look back, I see how early it started. In my childhood, being “seen” was tied to doing. Grades, achievements, accomplishments — that’s when I received acknowledgment. Not simply for existing, not for being myself, but for proving.
That pattern grew into an adulthood of:
- Over-achieving in school — including pursuing a doctorate I didn’t even want, only to prove I was worthy of love and respect.
- Over-performing at work — in nursing, taking on more than my share, trying to be irreplaceable.
- Over-perfecting in life — chasing the right car, the right house, the right partner, the perfect children, the image of a “together” woman.
It was all a projection: If I can make my life look good enough, maybe my parents will finally see me.
Like many women, I confused exhaustion with success and busyness with love.
The Turning Point: Leaving Nursing and Facing Fear
When I left nursing to become a stay-at-home mom, every fear surfaced. What if people judged me? What if we weren’t financially stable? What if my husband thought I wasn’t doing enough?
I placed unspoken expectations on myself: the house must be spotless, meals prepped nightly, children perfectly behaved when he walked in the door. These weren’t demands my husband made — they were burdens I projected. Because deep down, I was still trying to prove: I am enough. Don’t leave me. See me. Love me as I am.
When I left nursing, every fear of judgment and scarcity surfaced — a story I share in Burned Out, Unmasked, and Rebuilding.
Estrangement and the Gift of Releasing Proof
The greatest unraveling came through estrangement — first with my father, and in a different way, even with my mother before she passed.
For so long, I tried to earn their love by proving:
- With education.
- With career achievements.
- With appearances of success.
But estrangement forced me to face the truth: I could never prove enough. And the real question wasn’t whether they saw me — it was whether I could see myself.
Estrangement, painful as it was, became a strange gift. It taught me that my worth does not hinge on someone else’s perception. I no longer need my father’s approval or my mother’s acknowledgment to know I am valuable. If someone calls me crazy, woo-woo, or delusional, that’s their canvas, not mine.
For the first time in my life, I feel peace.
The Feminine Power of Sacred Rest
Sacred rest is not laziness. Rest is reclamation. It’s deeply feminine — the fertile soil where creativity, intuition, and presence grow.
For me, sacred rest looks like:
- Singing along to music while I bake.
- Watching dragonflies as if they were messengers.
- Planning lunch with a girlfriend without guilt.
- Sitting in silence, soaking in solitude, and letting my nervous system breathe.
These small things are not trivial. They are sacred.
7 Practices That Helped Me Move From Over-Functioning to Sacred Rest
1. Journaling the Guilt Away
When I began journaling, I realized most of my guilt wasn’t even mine — it was inherited, conditioned, and absorbed. My Ashes Journal became the place I could spill all of it without judgment. Some mornings I would cry through entire pages, writing to the younger version of me who thought she had to earn love.
Action step: Try a daily 10-minute journal practice. Ask yourself: What am I trying to prove today? Who am I proving it to? What would happen if I stopped?
2. Naming the Projected Pressures
For years, I assumed my husband or family expected me to keep a perfect home, have dinner ready, and maintain control over everything. The truth? Most of those expectations were never spoken by anyone but me.
Action step: Write down the unspoken “rules” you think others expect of you. Then ask: Did they ever actually say this? Or am I projecting it? Awareness is the first step to freedom.
3. Reframing Rest as Essential Work
I used to think rest was indulgent. Now I see it as nervous system work — the quiet recalibration that makes me a better mother, partner, and human. Sacred rest isn’t optional; it’s what allows me to show up fully.
Action step: Block 15 minutes in your day that you protect as fiercely as a meeting. Use it to nap, meditate, journal, or simply sit in silence.
(Research shows that rest improves productivity, memory, and emotional health — read more here).
Even something as simple as wrapping myself in a weighted blanket can remind my nervous system that it’s safe to rest.
4. Creating Rituals of Pause
When I learned to make rest intentional, it transformed me. Whether it was pouring moonwater, soaking in a bath, lighting my diffuser, pulling tarot cards, or rituals helped signal to my body: it’s safe to stop.
Action step: Choose one ritual that marks your transition into rest — it might be tea in the evening, a candle before bed, or practicing a Moonwater Ritual. Let it be consistent, small, and sacred. One way I learned to make rest intentional was through small rituals, like the ones I share in my Moonwater Rituals Guide.
5. Finding Joy in the Simple Things
The golden dragonflies in my yard weren’t random. They were reminders that beauty is everywhere when I slow down and give my energy to the present. Sacred rest gave me my eyes back.
Action step: Each day, name three simple joys: the rain, the smell of bread baking, your favorite song on the radio. Write them down in a Gratitude Journal. Over time, you’ll retrain your brain to notice the sacred in the ordinary.
6. Letting Go of the Perfect Image
For years, I tried to orchestrate a picture-perfect life — the career, the house, the car, the degree, the family. But sacred rest taught me I don’t have to curate my worth. It was never about being perfect; it was about being present. As a neurodivergent woman, I’ve learned that rest and nervous system regulation show up in subtle ways, like the patterns I wrote about in Neurodivergent but Undiagnosed? You’re not Alone.
Action step: List the areas where you’re still chasing appearances (career, home, parenting, marriage). Circle one where you can release pressure this week. Remind yourself: I am not here to perform. I am here to live.
7. Celebrating the Soft Life
Rest isn’t weakness. It’s power. Choosing solitude, softness, and joy without apology has given me more peace than I thought possible.
Action step: Say it out loud: I love my soft life. Then design your own version — maybe it’s a morning walk, a creative hobby, or an afternoon nap. The key is claiming it without guilt.
Learning Not to Judge Rest
One of the hardest parts of embracing sacred rest was learning not to judge it. For so long, I thought rest had to look like a perfect yoga pose, a bubble bath, or a productive meditation session. When it didn’t feel peaceful right away — when I felt bored, restless, or antsy — I assumed I was “bad at resting.”
But rest is a practice, not a performance. In the beginning, it can feel uncomfortable because our nervous systems are used to constant stimulation. Stillness can stir up anxiety. Quiet can feel empty. Boredom may surface as your body detoxes from always being “on.”
The shift came when I stopped making those feelings wrong. Rest doesn’t need to be blissful every time to be sacred. Sometimes it feels edgy, awkward, or even pointless — and that’s okay. That’s your body learning a new rhythm.
Try this: The next time you feel restless or guilty while resting, say to yourself: This is part of my healing. Rest doesn’t have to feel perfect to matter.
Synchronicity as an Invitation to Sacred Rest
Those dragonflies in my yard weren’t just insects — they were synchronicities, whispers from the universe reminding me to pay attention. I’ve written before about dragonfly synchronicities and how they remind me to slow down and trust the flow of life. Sacred rest creates the space to notice these signs. Without slowing down, I would have missed them.
When we stop over-functioning, we finally see the invitations life is offering.
Choosing Rest, Choosing Peace
At 37, after decades of over-functioning, I’ve discovered something my younger self never believed possible: peace.
I no longer need to prove my worth with degrees, titles, or appearances. I no longer hinge my value on whether my parents or anyone else see me.
I see me. And I love me.
Sacred rest has become the doorway to that peace — not because life is perfect, but because I no longer need perfection to feel valuable.
And maybe that’s the invitation for you, too: to let go of proving, to embrace sacred rest, and to live your own version of a soft life without guilt.
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September 29, 2025
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