I Don’t Know…

Rest

Coming off a 14 hour work shift really does something to the body. If you’re anything like me, you’d probably choose the shift over sleeping and being unproductive. That’s what my days off look like, trying to rest and fighting imposter syndrome.

How do you feel about nothing?

My heads hits the pillow, I pass out instinctively. No dreams, no nightmares just pass out to awaken slightly after six am. I don’t know if it’s the nature of my upbringing but waking with the sunrise was a core principle growing up that haunts me even today.

It’s not the sleep nor the lack of dreams while asleep that scares me. It’s being awake and having no energy to be productive. It’s sleep, eat, try to watch something, pass out midway and repeat.

It’s not knowing between fatigue and procrastination so it usually works till the wheels fall off. Once they fall off its panic about not working till I force myself back into work.

It’s not a pretty cycle, sometimes in between not knowing it can get really depressing. Misery loves company and depression loves no energy, which is also easy to have when you already have no energy from over working.

Depression is in itself real beyond belief because things bringing me down are things that I find value. Things I’ve built up in my world that hold truth or importance and in depressive swings it felt like I was totally useless. Letting myself and everyone else down.

In rest and procrastination my identity was being questioned. Who are you if you’re not working, being productive or helpful? If I’m at rest do I seize being me?

I should be resting not answering questions of identity. Instead maybe a visit to the museum, a braai, good friends and family. Maybe that’s what rest is all about. Even that requires all the energy I can find to ensure I’m present. The distraction works, I feel inspired to create, to perform, to be vulnerable.

Usually at about this point, it’s time to work for another week and so I usually turn the swing right when I need to be back on shift. Only to pass through similar pastures when I’m on my off days.

However the question of identity is never far from my idle mind. On the days I offer myself a tribute to figuring out the meaning for self, more doors open.

In a society that romanticises hustle, undervalues rest and hardly pays attention to mental health. Is it so strange that the idea of rest is one I can’t seem to come to terms with?

It could be how I’m dealing with my childhood trauma through my incessant need to love on everybody. Or my desire to fulfill my ambition with all the dreams I have floating in my head. Perhaps it’s simply the delusion that any of these things combined will get me closer to that thing.

I suppose the real question is, how can I rest when all the visions in my head, are still only in my head?

I guess I don’t know how to rest without feeling like an imposter….