A few years ago I went freelance. My story has its own ups and downs but in many ways is not dissimilar to that of thousands of others out there: overworked, overwhelmed, under-taking-care-of-myself, so I quit my job, changed my life and started afresh. One of the main draws of a freelance lifestyle, for me, was the ability to design my workday, workweek, workyear however I wanted. At that point in my life, I wanted rest. So I designed my life in a way that allowed plenty of room to take rest whenever I needed it. Sometimes it works that way, sometimes it doesn't.
Now, you might be wondering if this designed-for-purpose lifestyle has made me a true master of rest? No! Certainly not. In many ways I’m more confused about rest, now that I have more space to take it, than I’ve ever been. I have so many questions. So. Many. Questions.
But I tell you this micro story of my life to illustrate a point that may already be painfully obvious: I have a lot of privilege. I was financially secure enough to quit my job and enter the uncertain world of freelance work. I am socially secure enough to know I would have support if it all went wrong. I have no dependents, no beings beyond houseplants who rely on me for their primary care or wellbeing. I even have time and space in my life to ponder social, philosophical, theoretical, and sometimes fantastical questions about rest.
I am deeply aware that this is not the case for everyone. Having the time to rest is not a given. Being able to achieve a calm, quiet head space for rest is not a given. Finding a safe place, somewhere warm enough or cool enough or dry enough or private enough, is not a given.
What a world we inhabit where access to the most basic necessities of our existence align with the fortune of our birth and circumstances, or lack thereof. Still, in 2023, this is true for food, it is true for health care, it is true for rest. This revelation is nothing new, of course, which in itself makes it even more depressing.
And it’s not just the opportunity to rest that is affected by a person’s identity, the expected societal response to a person taking rest varies too. People of colour, migrants, fat people, low-income workers, neurodivergent people, and those who suffer from mental health issues and chronic illnesses are more likely to be confronted with the word “lazy” when simply fulfilling their need to rest, adding to the hostile environment surrounding this essential practice.
Tricia Hersey, founder of The Nap Ministry, speaks of this injustice in her work. She asserts that we cannot talk about rest without talking about white supremacy, connecting the capitalist grind culture of today with the life of servitude imposed upon her enslaved ancestors. I have just ordered her book, Rest is Resistance, which I can’t wait to dive into to help me grow my understanding of this topic.
As I enter into this exploration of rest, what it is, why it is important, how we can get more of it, I do not enter blindly. I know where my privilege has taken me. I know the tendency for “wellbeing” to apply only to those with sufficient income, status, lifestyle. I know that I have so much more to learn on this. So, dear readers, if you know of any good resources for learning more about the inequality of rest, please, send me tips! I’ll share anything helpful in upcoming posts.
Rest easy, friends.