I’m a high-performer by most definitions. A powerhouse at work (in my multiple roles), the default crisis manager in my family, and still the friend who remembers everyone’s birthday. Despite all that outward competence, for close to a decade I had a secret: 

I never felt rested. I don’t just mean I was always tired; I mean I was never truly at ease in my body.

I tried yoga. Meditation apps. Magnesium. Melatonin. Lavender on my pillow. Cutting caffeine. But when my nagging listlessness, ridiculously tight neck and shoulders, and constant edginess didn’t immediately diminish, I defaulted to, What’s wrong with me? and went down another wellness rabbit hole hoping to find something that might finally work, fast. 

Rest didn’t feel possible because, on a nervous system level, it didn’t feel safe.

I chased clean supplements, stricter routines, and productivity hacks. But no matter how hard I tried to force feeling better, it never landed — at least not for any length of time. What I know now that I didn’t know then is that my body wasn’t failing me. It was protecting me. 

Rest didn’t feel possible because, on a nervous system level, it didn’t feel safe.

What I didn’t realize is that my “symptoms”— tight neck and shoulders, a racing mind, the constant need for control — weren’t random, or unique to me. They were protective outputs of my nervous system. Outputs are your body’s way of saying, “something’s off and we need to change it.” 

They’re not flaws to fix, they’re signals to listen to. Signals that start as whispers and eventually turn into screams if we ignore them.

When rest stops working

We live in a culture that glorifies over-functioning and treats rest like a reward you have to earn. But here’s the truth we’re rarely taught: rest isn’t just something you do—it’s something your body has to be able to receive.

When your nervous system is stuck in a protective state, the “off switch” doesn’t work. Even when you want to rest—when you know you need to slow down and release the pressure, or risk being forced to—your biology might still be signaling “not safe,” keeping you wired, hyper-alert, and emotionally fried.

For many of us, especially those with unresolved trauma or chronic stress, slowing down doesn’t feel restful.

Realizing this was a lightbulb moment for me, as it is for so many others who are doing all the “right” things yet still waking up exhausted and edgy, and never feeling truly present for anything they do. For many of us, especially those with unresolved trauma or chronic stress, slowing down doesn’t feel restful. It puts us into panic mode, our brains constantly looking three steps ahead.

The answer isn’t more effort. It’s a different approach.

Rest exists on a spectrum

We often reduce rest to sleep or stillness. But rest lives on a spectrum, and includes physical, emotional, mental, social, sensory, and spiritual dimensions.

Rest is the ability to slow down, to pause, to modulate between sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous system states.

Rest means being able to step out of constant activation into a state where your body feels safe enough to truly let go, emotionally, physically, and mentally. And while that’s not something you can force, it is something you can train for. Like so much in life, getting better at rest is a skill you can build.

Nervous system regulation: the bridge to rest

I didn’t know it at the time, but my inability to rest wasn’t just about being “too busy” or needing better sleep hygiene. It was a deeply wired survival strategy—one that looked like hyper-competence on the outside but was fuelled by a nervous system that had learned rest wasn’t safe.

My nervous system had been rehearsing this role since childhood, learning to read the room, keep the peace, and stay two steps ahead—hoping that if I could just do enough, be good enough, I’d earn love from a parent who was distant, distracted, and also dysregulated.

Decades later, stepping into a new relationship and suddenly becoming a stepmom to three young kids moved all of those patterns into overdrive.

In my early stepmom days, I was constantly navigating shifting routines, emotional landmines, and a family system I couldn’t control. I never knew what the day would bring, so I anchored myself in the things I could manage: my calendar, my output, my role as the one who could hold it all together. I became the reliable one. The fixer. The steady presence everyone could count on.

The same tools that once helped me survive were now burning me out.

But what looked like strength was actually my body bracing. Over-functioning was my armour. Stillness felt like a threat—because a long time ago, my nervous system learned that if I slowed down and relinquished control (which I never really had, by the way) everything might fall apart. So I stayed busy. I stayed alert. And I stayed exhausted.

Eventually, that strategy stopped serving me. The same tools that once helped me survive were now burning me out.

This is why nervous system regulation is crucial. Because you can’t meditate your way into rest or out-journal your overwhelm if your body remains on high alert and doesn’t feel safe enough to soften and let go.

Imagine the nervous system like a bucket. Every stressor past and present—lack of sleep, a tough conversation, skipped meals, even loud environments—adds water. Eventually, your bucket begins to overflow, and your body responds with whatever protective pattern it knows best. The goal of regulation isn’t to eliminate stress, but to increase your capacity to handle it without the system going into overdrive.

The stress response isn’t bad, it’s adaptive. Your brain is constantly scanning your environment for cues. It does this through your sensory systems—what you see, hear, smell, and feel—and through your interoceptive awareness (your brain’s perception of what’s happening inside your body). Even if logically everything’s fine, if any of those signals feel chaotic, unfamiliar, or overwhelming, your system can default to protective mode. 

Regulation doesn’t mean walking around in a state of perfect calm. It means your system knows how to shift gears.

This is where nervous system tools change the game.

Regulation doesn’t mean walking around in a state of perfect calm. It means your system knows how to shift gears. To rise to the challenge when needed, and then actually come down when the moment has passed. 

Leaning into Neurosomatic Intelligence (applied neurology, somatics, emotional processing) teaches your body how to recognize safety again—so rest isn’t just something you squeeze in on vacation or collapse into after burnout. It becomes something you can reach for in real time, in the middle of a messy Monday or a hard conversation. It becomes part of how you live.

The bridge to real rest: Small inputs, big shifts

Here are three nervous system regulation tools that can help you start resetting your relationship with rest. You can use them between meetings, in the car, or before bed. Think of them like reps in the gym, but for your inner world. They send powerful signals of safety to your brain, making real rest possible again.

Peripheral vision reset

Stare at a fixed point ahead and gently widen your awareness to the sides for 10 to 20 seconds.

Why it works: This opens your visual field, a direct cue to your survival brain that you're not in danger.

Breathing with extended exhale

Inhale for 2 counts through your nose, exhale for 6 to 8 counts (or whatever feels comfortable, focusing on a longer exhale). Repeat for 5 to 10 reps.

Why it works: Longer exhales engage your parasympathetic nervous system and also provide much needed fuel to your brain.

Neurosomatic meditation

Close your eyes or soften your gaze. Focus on the soles of your feet or toes. Imagine inhaling and exhaling through your feet. Repeat for 5 to 10 reps.

Why it works: If trying to meditate for an hour leaves you feeling frustrated, you’re not alone. We often “overdose” our system causing more threat. This is a gentle introduction to meditation, helping your system to tolerate and eventually welcome feeling present and calm.

Rest is not the reward. It’s the foundation.

Choosing rest in a world that glorifies burnout is a radical act. It’s how you reclaim your health. Your clarity. Your joy. Your presence.

But you don’t need a week off to access it. You don’t need to meditate on a mountaintop (unless you really want to!). And you certainly don’t need to push harder (in fact, it’s often counterproductive).

You need to build a relationship with your nervous system.

Start with one moment of stillness. One small input of safety. One new rhythm that honours the body you’re in.

Because rest isn’t a retreat. It’s a return.