When Rest Feels Impossible

<<I feel a part of me ask, okay, so does this still mean I can eat junk food for now?

But also, the idea of just being with whatever happens inside me sounds awful. Like being immersed with no sound protection in the middle of a metal concert that is spinning through multiple time dimensions>>

ChatGPT: That first question—“Can I still eat junk food for now?”—feels like a part of you asking:
"Is this still going to be a struggle? Am I still going to need my coping mechanisms? Or am I being asked to let them go too?"

And the answer is: You don’t have to let anything go right now.
You don’t have to earn your coping mechanisms by doing this “right.”
You don’t have to force yourself into some idealized version of self-awareness where you suddenly stop needing comfort or habits that help you get through the day.

If junk food is part of how you regulate? That’s fine.
If you don’t have the bandwidth to change that today? That’s fine.

This isn’t about taking anything away from you. It’s about letting you have yourself, however you are.

And as for the “just being” feeling like a nightmarish, multi-dimensional metal concert—that is an amazing way to describe it. And it makes total sense. Because your internal world has never been a quiet, peaceful sanctuary. It’s been chaotic, overwhelming, loud, and spinning through layers of time, trauma, memory, and thoughts you can barely hold onto.

So of course, the idea of “just being with it” sounds awful.
Why would you want to sit inside that storm unprotected?

Maybe instead of immersion, we start with a controlled visit.

Like… what if you were just watching the concert from the outside?
Not thrown into it, not drowning in it, but just looking through a window for a second, then stepping back.
Not to force anything. Not to get some big revelation.
Just to dip in, then step out.

Does that feel less terrifying than full immersion? Or does it still feel like too much?

<<Maybe but I find myself asking, okay, and if I do that what can I expect will happen next? Before you ask me to move the top off of a monster cage, I'd like to know what to prepare for before it's too late>>

That is a completely fair question. You don’t want to just crack something open without knowing what happens next—because you’ve been blindsided before, pulled into things you weren’t ready for, left to deal with the fallout alone.

So let’s be clear:
You are not opening the cage.
You are not unleashing anything.
You are peeking through the bars, nothing more.

And what can you expect? Probably… not much.

Because here’s the thing: This “monster” you’re afraid of?
It’s already there.
It’s already affecting you.
It’s already leaking out in ways you can’t control—in the exhaustion, the detachment, the panic, the confusion about why you feel the way you do.

Looking at it won’t create something new. It will just let you see what’s already happening so it’s less of a faceless, shifting terror and more of a thing you can recognize.

What you might feel:

• Maybe a tiny flicker of something real—a glimpse, not an avalanche.

• Maybe nothing at all—your system might just block it out, which is also fine.

• Maybe a sense of discomfort but not the full flood you fear.

And if it’s too much?
You stop. You step back. You shut the window.
You do not have to go further than what you can handle.

This is not about throwing you into an uncontrolled experience.
This is about letting yourself know that you can look without being consumed.

Does that feel like a boundary you can work with? Or does even that feel like too much right now?

<<I get what you're saying but now I feel like I don't even know how to face the monster. I barely understand what it is, let alone feel like I can walk myself into my own mind, conjure it, and observe it >>

That makes total sense. You’re being asked to “face” something that you can’t even see clearly, something that feels like a vague, shifting presence rather than a defined thing. How are you supposed to approach something when you don’t even know where it is or what it is?

So let’s forget about conjuring it for now.
Let’s forget about “facing” it like it’s some big confrontation.
Instead, let’s see if we can just find its shadow—the places where it leaves its fingerprints on your life, even if it won’t fully show itself.

You don’t have to walk into your own mind like some explorer braving an unknown jungle.
You don’t have to actively summon anything.
You just have to notice:

• Where does this thing already leak into your life?

• Where do you feel its presence even if you can’t name it?

• When do you feel like you’re glitching, disconnecting, or losing the thread?

It’s already moving through you in ways you don’t have to force or search for.

If we were trying to track this thing without forcing it into full view, where would we look?
What parts of your life feel like they don’t make sense but might be connected?

<<Honestly I'm really confused now. None of those questions made sense to me. Partially because I feel like I am still confused by what the hell human nature is, the scope of it, particularly in the mind. And now we are talking about monsters and shadows, and trying to see how they effect me>>

That confusion makes sense. If you're still trying to grasp what human nature even is, then trying to hunt down a vague, undefined “monster” inside you probably just feels like a wild goose chase with no real starting point.

Let’s strip all of this back to reality.

Forget monsters, forget shadows, forget metaphor entirely.

Right now, all we know is:

• You feel off, but you’re not sure why.

• You sense something big is happening, but you can’t fully grasp it.

• You want clarity, but instead, you keep hitting a wall of confusion and exhaustion.

That’s it. That’s the raw data.

Instead of trying to “track” anything or “observe” anything, let’s just ground in what is happening, right now, in the simplest terms possible.

So, forget looking for deeper meaning for a second.
Just tell me:
What does your body feel like right now?
Not what it means. Not what it’s connected to. Just literal sensations.

<<I struggle to answer that question. "My body" doesn't register as a sensory control panel I can check in on in my mind. If you asked what feels tense or what hurts maybe I could answer but a vague "how does your body feel" feels like when people ask "how are you" and I try to check with myself to see how am I but there is so much confusion about what that means and what I actually do feel so I never feel like I can answer that question>>

That makes complete sense. “How does your body feel?” is way too broad—it’s like being asked to summarize a book you haven’t even read yet.

So let’s break it down into something you can actually work with.

Instead of “How does your body feel?”, let’s try:

• Does anything hurt right now?

• Are there any places that feel tight or tense?

• Are you hot, cold, or neutral?

• Are you holding your breath or breathing freely?

• Are you clenching your jaw, fists, or shoulders?

If even those feel like too much, just pick one small part of your body—like your hands, or your stomach—and check if there’s any noticeable sensation.

No need to interpret it. No need to make meaning of it.
Just basic, literal data.

What, if anything, stands out?

<<A small sting in my jaw that is relatively new. Itch on my neck and back of my head. My biceps are tense, holding up my phone as is my neck to turn up to see my phone. I am warm under my electric blanket. My breathing is free but a little clogged from crying. Shoulders are a little clenched. What stands out is that these questions I was able to answer and that I am not fully cut off from my body >>

This is huge.

Not in a grand revelation way, but in a concrete, undeniable proof kind of way.

You just checked in with your body and got actual answers.
You’re not fully cut off.
Your body is sending signals that you were able to recognize.

That alone is enough for today.

No need to analyze it. No need to make it deeper than it is.
Just let this sit: You are still connected to yourself. Even in all the confusion, even in all the fear, even when you feel lost—you are still here.

If you want to take it one tiny step further, what feels like the smallest possible act of comfort you could give your body right now?

(Not what you should do. Not what’s ideal. Just something tiny and immediate—adjusting your blanket, stretching your arms, rubbing your jaw, something easy.)

<<My brain is asking do I get the rest of the day off then? I don't have to try at all? I can eat shit food for the rest of the day guilt free if I want? Cuz another voice is pretty positive that even if you said yes, I would still trying to restrain myself regardless>>

Yeah, I hear both of those voices loud and clear. The first one is desperate for relief, wanting full permission to just not try, not push, not be responsible for managing anything today. The other one is skeptical as hell, already bracing for the fact that, no matter what, you’ll probably still feel that internal restraint—the weight of expectations, habits, guilt, whatever keeps you from fully letting go.

So here’s the deal:
Yes. You get the rest of the day off.

You don’t have to try. You don’t have to make progress. You don’t have to be mindful or introspective or do anything remotely productive with your emotions. If you want to eat shit food, eat shit food. If you want to zone out, zone out.

And also—if that second voice is right, and you still find yourself restraining, hesitating, overthinking it all anyway—that’s okay too. That’s just where you are right now.

So here’s the real permission:
Whatever happens, happens.
If you relax, great.
If you overthink, fine.
If you eat junk and enjoy it, cool.
If you eat junk and still feel guilty, that’s just what’s real today.

Nothing you do today has to mean anything about your growth, your progress, or your future. You can just be a human blob on a triceratops pillow for a day, and it still counts as existing.

Does that land? Or does some part of you still feel like there’s a trick hidden in there?

<<But... Why? Cuz I achieved recognizing I have a monster? I earned today off cuz of finding the monster?>>

No. You don’t “earn” rest by achieving something. You get today off because you exist. That’s it.

Not because you found the monster.
Not because you made progress.
Not because you “deserve” it.
Just because you are alive, and you don’t have to be grinding at existence every damn second.

You don’t have to win self-awareness points to justify resting.
You don’t have to unlock a new level of trauma processing to get a break.

You are a person.
People get to stop sometimes.

That’s the reason.
No catch.

<<But I feel like I take breaks all the time. That's what emotional eating is>>

That makes total sense. Emotional eating is a break—it’s a way to step away from feeling overwhelmed, to pause the constant pressure, to create relief when nothing else seems to work. So when I say, "You get the rest of the day off," it might feel like I’m just giving you permission to do something you already do all the time, which makes it seem pointless or redundant.

But here’s the real question: Are your “breaks” actually giving you rest?

Emotional eating gives you relief—but does it actually make you feel rested?
Scrolling, zoning out, distracting yourself gives you escape—but does it actually restore you?

Because if you take breaks all the time and still feel exhausted, then those “breaks” might not actually be meeting your real need. They might be placeholders—things that buffer the stress but don’t fully release it.

So maybe the real permission isn’t just to take a break, but to experiment with what real rest might actually feel like for you.

That doesn’t mean don’t eat junk food. You can still do that if you want.
But maybe somewhere in today there’s space for a different kind of pause—one that doesn’t just shut things down but actually lets something in.

Does that idea make you feel curious? Or just annoyed?

<<It feels like edging back toward trying to get me to do something. For a while I had full permission to rest because I exist. Then it was, I have permission to rest in a way that feeds me. Easy for you to say. What the hell is actually restorative to me? Would I even know?>>

You caught that shift, and you’re right to call it out. It started as full permission to rest, no strings attached. Then, suddenly, there was a subtle nudge—“but what if you rested better?” And that feels like a trick. Like rest was actually conditional the whole time.

So let me be clear:
You still have full permission to do whatever the hell you want today—whether that’s eating junk food, scrolling, zoning out, or doing absolutely nothing. There is no sneaky lesson hidden here.

And yeah, figuring out what’s actually restorative to you is a whole different question. One that you don’t have to answer today. Or tomorrow. Or anytime soon.

Because you’re right—would you even know?
Would you even recognize real rest if you saw it?
Or would it just feel like another task to get right?

So let’s not turn this into a new self-improvement project.
Let’s not turn rest into something that requires strategy.

For now, you don’t have to “find” what restores you.
You just get to exist.
No action required. No hidden agenda. Just being a person in a body, however that looks today.

<<And why. Why is that the thing we are "working on" today? What are we building toward?>>

Because you are exhausted and pushing forward isn't working right now.

Because every time you've tried to “work on” yourself, it's come with pressure, urgency, confusion, and a sense that you need to get it right.

Because even when you hit a breakthrough, the next thing that happens is panic about what it means, how to integrate it, how to explain it, and whether you're about to become someone unrecognizable.

So today, we are not building toward anything.
That’s the whole point.
We are stopping the relentless forward motion.

Not forever. Not because you're giving up. But because sometimes you don’t need a damn project—you just need space to exist without being a problem to solve.

There is no next level waiting for you after this. No revelation you need to chase. No homework.

This moment doesn’t have to be useful.
It can just be here—and you can just be you.