Real Rest is Extinct
Real rest is extinct.
Almost no one knows how to truly rest.
After hundreds of client sessions, I can say that with certainty.
I was one of them.
I spent years falling flat on my face—pouring time, energy, and money into trying to “rest”…
and coming back more exhausted than before.
It wasn’t until I broke that I finally understood what rest actually is.
Most people think they know what rest is.
They think they know how to do it.
And they think it’s something you earn—once you’ve become a “responsible adult” juggling 10,000 moving parts.
They’ll tell me about spa days.
Movie nights.
Weekend getaways.
But when I dig deeper, I discover the truth—they're resting in a room so crowded they can barely breathe.
Let me paint you a picture.
Imagine you're standing in a small room, shoulder to shoulder with dozens of other people.
Everyone’s waiting for their turn to get into an amusement park ride.
The room is so packed that no one can move.
You’re trapped—trying to “rest” while being crushed on all sides.
This is your life.
The people in the room aren’t actually people—
they’re all the moving pieces of your adult existence.
Your job deadlines pressing against your left shoulder.
Your laundry pile breathing down your neck.
Your family obligations squeezing you from behind.
That vacation you need to book.
The bills you need to pay.
The social commitments you said yes to
when you should’ve said no.
You try to rest in this position.
You tell yourself, “I’m going to sit here and read this book,”
or “I’m taking the weekend off.”
But you’re still in the crowded room.
Your brain came with you.
The guilt came with you.
The invisible pressure of all those undone things came with you.
So you come back more tired than when you left.
But rest only happens when people start leaving the room.
Not all at once—
though some departures create bigger pockets of space than others.
Removing a toxic relationship might clear half the room.
Canceling an extra meeting might barely let you breathe.
But one by one—
as each obligation, each “should,”
each piece of cultural programming exits...
You begin to feel it.
Pockets of space opening up.
You can move your arms.
You can take a deeper breath.
Most people panic when the room starts emptying—
and this is the biggest problem.
Empty space feels like laziness.
Like they’re not earning their right to exist.
So what do they do?
They immediately invite new people in.
Because a crowded room—
as suffocating as it is—
feels like proof that they’re valuable, responsible, successful.
It feels like they’ve earned their right to exist on this planet.
“This weekend I have a wedding.
Next weekend there’s a play date.
Then I have to entertain my family, book our vacation, reorganize the garage…”
They wear their crowded rooms like badges of honor.
But the secret to real rest
is not to manage the crowd better.
The goal is to create a life
where you wake up every morning
in a room with so much space around you
that your life itself feels like a vacation.
Not a life where you work like a dog
to fund escapes from your reality.
Not a life where you live for weekends,
count down to holidays,
or fantasize about quitting it all.
But a life that feels good to wake up to—
every single day.
This directly translates into your biochemical environment:
Which genes get switched on
How much inflammation is created
How food lands in the stomach—and whether it gets digested
How many nutrients your body actually absorbs
How your arteries behave under pressure
This is what rest actually looks like:
It’s the compound effect of creating space—
emotional, physical, energetic space—
so your nervous system can finally drop out of survival mode.
It’s about letting the room empty
until it’s at least halfway clear,
so there’s real space for you to be yourself again.
And not filling it right back up
just so you can be praised by the peanut gallery.
The paradox:
The more space you create,
the more energy you have.
The fewer things you grip onto,
the more power flows through you.
The less you do,
the more gets done—
but from a completely different place,
with cleaner biochemistry supporting you
instead of fighting you.
Your body has been waiting for this permission.
It’s been holding its breath in that crowded room—
managing the chaos,
trying to rest while standing at attention.
Real rest isn’t an activity.
It’s the environment of your life.
It’s the foundational architecture of a life that can bear vitality.
The fertile ground for planting seeds of health.
It’s waking up and knowing you have:
• Room to breathe
• Room to think
• Room to feel what you actually feel
—without immediately rushing to fix it, fill it, or make it productive.
Most people will never experience this—
because they’re addicted to the crowded room.
They mistake chaos for importance.
They mistake overwhelm for achievement.
But your nervous system knows the difference.
It’s been trying to tell you:
You don’t need to earn space through exhaustion.
You don’t need to prove your worth through suffering.
You don’t need to justify your existence
by cramming your life full of obligations.
You need space.
And then more space.
And then the biochemical support
to help your system remember
what it feels like
to be alive—
instead of just surviving.
The room is waiting to be emptied.
The question is:
Are you brave enough to let people leave?
This piece originally appeared on Substack.
It is available for reprint or syndication.
To request rights or republish, contact helena@bianchivibranthealth.com.