Resting is Hard Work
On doctor's orders, KPIs, and why forced rest can be a challenge.
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My only assignment is to rest. Those are my doctor’s orders. The only KPI I need to accomplish is to focus on resting, slowing, and healing.
For as much as I’ve written about rest and asked everyone in this community to assess their relationship with it, I’m still really working through my own. It turns out, resting is hard work. I’ve been cooped up for the last few weeks and I’m already feeling antsy. But I still need more rest.
I’m admittedly bad at resting. I’m writing this newsletter at 11:30pm and when friends asked if they could drop off meals, I replied with:
“Thank you! That would be great. I wanted to learn Lovable so I built a custom website for meal drop-offs.”
Nothing says resting like learning a new AI tool to build a new website, saying yes to a venture capital firm pitch 3 weeks post brain surgery, and taking my daughter to her first Lynx game.
I am unhinged and I know it.
But the other truth is that while I’m being forced to rest, I also feel energized! The last 3 months have been draining my energy. I would feel fueled by getting answers and having productive conversations as I was basically speed dating neurosurgeons, but the start-stop-hurry-up-and-wait of it all was really draining. This whole experience has given me a new understanding and empathy for people navigating chronic illness or ongoing treatment, constantly and consistently are in this rhythm of research, consultation, hopefulness, frustration, and if they’re lucky, an answer.
And not to mention that while my surgery was routine and was formally a ‘procedure’, it wasn’t a small surgery. It wasn’t a surgery to fix a broken finger. It was a surgery to fix my brain = stressful.
What’s wild is that my anxiety over the last two years has been lesser than ever before. Maybe because the scariest thing that can happen - you have something lurking in your brain that literally bursts, you recover, you start to thrive, you have to fix it (again), you recover, you believe you’ll get back to thriving - has happened.
Whenever I mention my lived experience of surviving a brain aneurysm to anyone they routinely respond with: That’s my biggest nightmare.
And it is! It’s most people’s scariest thing because it’s sudden, you can’t prepare for it, and you really can’t do anything about it.
It’s hard to explain the moment where you realize that something scary is about to happen but there’s nothing you can do about it. Time moves so quickly and also pauses to go in slow motion. But in all reality, from the moment I realized my hand was shaking to the moment my aneurysm ruptured = 3 minutes total. 170 seconds of confusion and 10 seconds of fear.
So what’s the use in worrying? I’ve learned now, more than ever, that the only thing you can do is continue to stay present, be grateful, and find joy wherever you can.
So many of my family, friends and neighbors have asked to bring us food, offered pickups, brought sweet treats, and brought Raine to the park while I nap. It turns out, resting takes a village. And I’m grateful, every single day, for mine.
Thank you for your continued love and support!
XO,
Rosie